:-NRI 


B    M    102    Ih3 


Twain's    Kinrt    Menrf. 

The   death   of   Richard   Malcolm   Johnston 
recalls  a  Little  story,  which,   perhaps,  is  not 

^n  AyHkn?Wn'  writes  Frank  L-  Stanton 
the  Atlanta  Constitution.  At  one  time 
.  the  distinguished  writer  had  be.en  ™£ 

™1!*  ?   gW£  a   readinS    in    Baltimore, 
as  Nelson   Page  volunteered  to  assist 
him.     But  a  death  in  Mr.  Page's  f  amilv 

2 


refused  to  resume  his  lectures.  But  he  went 
on  that  occasion,  for  he  appreciated  the 
genius  of  Richard  Malcolm  Johnson  and 
<!<^rmg  to  honor  him,  he  left  New  York  at 
a  great  personal  sacrifice,  and  appeared. 
with  him  on  that  occasion.  There  never  was 
such  a  crowded  hoitse  in  a  Baltimore  tho- 
9,t(;r-  ^hJSP  the  entertainment  was  over 
Colonel  JoHnston,  with  his  accustomed  fair 
ness  and  courtesy,  tendered  Twain  the  bulk  • 

01  \he  T?r?tS-  "^°'"  Said  Mark:  "not  onS 
cent  shall  I  receive.  It  is  such  a  great 
nonor  to/know  a  man  like  you  th»t  I  am 
the  one/who  owes  you  the  debt  or  grati 
tude."  fWell,"  said  the  colonel,  "at'*  east 
let  me  /defray  your  expenses"  "I  liavr  •) 

th^0SlfMtIckct'"  said  Twain.  "GoodV, 
and  Gd|  bless  you."  That  was  Mark  Twain. 


OLD   TIMES  IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 


OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE 
GEORGIA 


BY 


RICHARD    MALCOLM   JOHNSTON 

AUTHOR  OF  "DUKKSBOROUGH  TALES,"  "WIDOW  GUTHRIE, 
"  OLD  MARK  LANGSTON,"  ETC. 


Their  best  companions,  innocence  and  health, 
And  their  best  riches,  ignorance  of  wealth." 

—  Deserted  Village 


gork 
THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON :  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1897 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  IiS97, 
BY  THE   MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


J.  8.  Gushing  «e  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

MR.  EBEN  BULL'S  INVESTMENTS 1 

Century  Magazine. 

MR.  CUMMIN'S  RELINQUISHMENT 23 

Century  Magazine. 

MR.  PATE'S  ONLY  INFIRMITY 39 

Century  Magazine. 

SHADOWY  FOES 57 

Century  Magazine. 

THEIR  COUSIN  LETHY 75 

Century  Magazine. 

OLD  LADY  LAZENBEREY 97 

Century  Magazine. 

OUR  WITCH 115 

Century  Magazine. 

WEASELS  ON  A  DEBAUCH 141 

EPHE 155 

The  Outlook. 

A  CASE  OF  SPITE 171 

The  Independent. 

MR.  PEA  NEARLY  NONPLUSSED 187 

Northwestern  Miller. 

LOST 199 

McClurc's  Syndicate. 


VI  CONTENTS 

PASS 

MUTUAL  SCHOOLMASTERS 207 

McClure's  Syndicate. 

Miss  CLISBY'S  ROMANCE 215 

Frank  Leslie's  Magazine. 

ISHMAEL 233 

Lippincott's  Magazine. 


MR.   EBEN   BULL'S  INVESTMENTS 

A    STORY  OF  PHILEMON  PERCH 


MR.  EBEN  BULL'S  INVESTMENTS 

A    STORY  OF  PHILEMON  PERCH 


For  most  men  (till  by  losing  rendered  sager) 

Will  back  their  own  opinions  by  a  wager.  —  BEPPO. 


SOMETIMES,  when  I  hear  people  speaking  of 
investments,  I  am  reminded  of  some  that,  to  a 
limited  degree  and  without  great  ostentation, 
were  wont,  when  I  was  a  schoolboy  of  thirteen 
and  there  along,  to  be  hazarded  by  a  gentleman 
of  our  village ;  in  one  of  which,  apparently 
promising  quick  and  good  dividends,  I  ventured 
to  take  a  chance  for  myself. 

The  Dukesborough  school,  kept  by  Mr.  Whit- 
comb,  a  gentleman  from  Vermont,  had  a  hun 
dred  pupils,  boys  and  girls,  the  greater  portion 
of  whom  were  boarders.  Although  neither  very 
strong  nor  well  grown,  I  had  been,  during  all 
the  previous  session,  the  swiftest  runner  among 
the  boys,  and  it  pleased  me  much  to  coincide 
with  the  general  belief  that  I  could  not  be  over 
come  in  a  foot-race  by  any  other  boy  near  my 

3 


4  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

age,  no  matter  where  he  came  from.  Among 
the  new  boys  who  had  come  in  at  the  opening 
of  the  present  term  was  Jack  Withers,  a  year 
older  than  myself,  but  not  any  taller.  He  had 
been  reared  thus  far  upon  a  plantation  border 
ing  on  Fulsom's  Creek,  seven  or  eight  miles 
south  of  the  village.  If  it  had  not  been  that  I 
had  come  to  like  him  so  well  before  our  trial  of 
speed,  I  might  have  enjoyed  more  keenly  the 
certain  prospect  of  the  defeat  which  must  befall 
this  champion  of  the  new  boys,  between  whom 
and  the  old  there  always  was  a  rivalry  which 
was  as  animated  as  it  was  brief  in  duration. 
He  proved  himself  to  be  such  a  fine  fellow  that 
afterward  I  was  thankful  for  having  been  so 
courteous  in  my  first  attentions.  Having  showed 
himself  the  equal  of  the  best  of  the  "  olds"  at 
all  other  sports,  he  beat,  but  only  by  a  neck's 
length,  the  second  best  of  our  runners.  After 
this  he  was  notified  that  on  the  following  Friday 
evening,  if  he  should  choose  to  do  so,  he  might 
contest  with  the  best  nag  that  the  "olds"  had 
to  present.  The  liking  I  had  for  this  new  boy 
led  me  to  say  to  my  friends  that  I  hoped  the 
contest  might  be  had  quietly  beneath  the  red- 
oaks  and  hickories  in  the  academy  yard.  But 
no.  A  champion,  however  inclined  to  be  mod 
est  and  forbearing,  cannot  control  the  solemn 
behests  and  mandates  of  his  party,  especially 


MR.   EBEN  BULL'S   INVESTMENTS  5 

when  it  is  ruled  by  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Eben 
Bull. 

Since  that  time,  long  ago,  I  have  travelled 
somewhat  extensively  both  in  the  United  States 
and  abroad,  and  I  can  say  with  assurance,  that 
I  have  never  made  acquaintance  with  a  longer, 
slimmer,  straighter,  darker,  more  solemn-looking 
and  more  solemn-speaking  person  than  Mr. 
Eben  Bull.  Not  that,  in  point  of  fact,  he  was 
so  very,  very  solemn.  On  the  contrary,  he 
was  fond  of  fun,  especially  that  of  schoolboys, 
to  whose  vagaries  he  invariably  was  indulgent, 
and  for  which  he  was  ever  ready  to  bespeak  in 
dulgence  from  their  parents  and  teachers.  He 
professed  to  glory  in  witnessing  trials  of  prowess 
of  every  kind.  Mrs.  Bowden,  wife  of  the  post 
master,  with  whom  he  boarded,  used  to  tell  how 
he  would  sit  in  her  back  porch  and  watch  the 
contests  of  young  pigs  and  of  roosters  of  every 
age,  and  banter  her  husband,  who  was  a  semi- 
religious  man,  to  make  what  he  called  "  a'  in- 
vessment "  on  the  several  issues.  Claiming  to 
be  unambitious,  yet  he  was  free  to  speak  of 
himself  as  sufficiently  knowing  upon  subjects 
historical,  political,  agricultural,  mercantile, 
mechanical,  and  others,  including  religious 
(though  not  a  church-member)  and  even  mat 
rimonial,  albeit  a  bachelor  on  the  shady  side  of 
forty.  When  asked  why  he  had  never  married 


b  OLD   TIMES   IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

nor  joined  the  church,  he  winked  slowly,  looked 
compassionately  upon  married  men  and  church- 
members  who  happened  to  be  present,  and 
mumbled  a  few  words  intended  to  express  the 
profundity  with  which  he  had  searched  into  the 
depths  of  human  nature.  The  solemnity  of  his 
speech  was  deepened  by  a  habit  of  imparting  a 
sighing  and  nasal  preface  to  the  beginning  of  his 
sentences  and  to  other  chosen  words  in  them 
which  made  them  sound  as  if  the  painful  elabora 
tion  of  his  thoughts  had  induced  asthma  or  some 
kindred  pulmonic  infirmity.  An  avowed  patron 
of  the  "  olds,"  he  was  yet  quick  to  admit  and 
receive  into  his  confidence  real  manifest  excel 
lence  among  the  "news."  He  liked  my  family 
much,  and  used  to  speak  in  highest  praise  of  my 
fleetness.  When  he  heard  that  the  decisive  race, 
in  accordance  with  my  wishes,  was  to  be  had  on 
the  academy  grounds,  he  said  to  Tom  Gatlin, 
our  leader : 

"  Hum !  Tom,  let  'em  take  it  out  up  here  at 
Eland's,  whar  everybody  can  see  Phil  run  away 
from  that  chap  from  Fulsom's  Creek.  Phil  Perch 
is  entirely  too  modest ;  and  you  tell  him  I  say  so." 

That  settled  it,  and  after  the  school  was  dis 
missed  Friday  afternoon,  we  all  repaired  to 
Eland's,  whose  store  was  half-way  down  the  only 
street  of  which  Dukesborough  had  to  boast.  I 
look  back  now  to  that  scene  with  some  sadness 


MR.   EBEN   BULL'S   INVESTMENTS  7 

at  the  contempt  I  felt  for  myself  after  I  had  been 
so  beaten.  When  Jack  reached  the  goal,  I,  fif 
teen  yards  behind,  put  my  hand  to  my  heart, 
turned,  and,  coming  back,  looked  at  no  face  save 
one,  which  I  could  have  avoided  no  more  than  a, 
bird  avoids  the  snake  by  whose  charm  it  has  been 
enchanted.  Mr.  Bull,  having  withdrawn  to  the 
steps  of  the  piazza,  stood  and  regarded  me  silently 
with  his  great  black  eyes,  and,  as  I  went  on  home, 
I  could  feel  them  shooting  upon  my  back,  not 
pity  for  my  defeat,  but  anger,  dire  and  deadly, 
for  the  dishonor  of  my  friends  and  antecedents. 
I  have  lived  to  suffer  the  defeat  of  many  a  dear 
hope,  but  not  one  of  them  has  ever  inflicted  a 
pain  like  that.  Yet,  when  afterward  I  found 
that  Jack  said  openly  that  he  would  fight  any 
boy  approximating  his  size  who  should  taunt  me, 
I  loved  him  more  than  before.  When  I  had  left 
the  field,  Mr.  Bull  said  to  him : 

"  N  -  h,  don't  say  nothin'  'bout  it,  Jack ;  but 
I  invessed  two  dollars  along  of  Jeemes  Bland 
on  that  contempible  boy,  and  I've  got  to  git  back 
the  invessment  from  Jeemes  or  somebody." 

The  friendship  between  Jack  and  me  grew 
more  and  more  fond,  and  it  consoled  me  to  re 
flect  that  the  garland  I  had  worn  could  have 
been  snatched  only  by  him  who  proved  to  be  as 
gentle  and  manly  as  he  was  stalwart  and  agile. 
In  my  mind  I  compared  him  with  the  most  fa- 


8  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

famous  runners  of  whom  I  had  been  reading  in 
Lempriere's  "Classical  Dictionary,"  particularly 
Milanion,  who,  by  the  help  of  Venus,  had  run 
the  race  with  Atalanta.  If  not  the  first  runner 
in  the  Dukesborough  school,  I  was  second,  I 
thought,  to  the  best  in  the  world  —  and  he  my 
friend. 

A  mile  and  a  half  beyond  the  Ogeechee,  which 
was  equidistant  from  our  village,  dwelt  Mr.  Jones 
Huckaby,  friend  of  Mr.  Bull.  A  justice  of  the 
peace  and  a  farmer,  he  sought  to  supplement  the 
income  from  his  office  and  farm  with  a  small 
store,  and  with  occasional,  moderate,  cautious 
investments,  like  those  of  Mr.  Bull,  on  neighbor 
hood  nags,  game  chickens,  and  other  animals, 
when  discussions  upon  their  comparative  excel 
lences  became  to  that  degree  animated.  Occa 
sionally  the  two  made  joint  investments  of  from 
half  a  dollar  to  five  dollars.  More  often,  how 
ever,  they  had  been  opposed.  It  so  happened 
that  the  balance  just  now  was  in  Mr.  Huckaby's 
favor  to  the  amount  of  six  dollars  and  thirty- 
seven  and  a  half  cents  —  a  balance  which  Mr. 
Bull  thought  he  owed  it  to  himself  to  remove. 
People  on  the  further  border  of  the  river  often 
visited  Dukesborough,  which  was  much  nearer 
to  them  than  their  own  county-seat.  Mr.  Huck 
aby,  especially,  was  addicted  to  riding  over,  tak 
ing  back  in  his  saddle-bags  papers  of  pins,  strings 


MR.   EBEN   BULL'S   INVESTMENTS  9 

of  buttons,  skeins  of  silk,  arid  maybe  half  a  dozen 
bunches  of  twine,  that,  after  a  fair  discount  from 
Mr.  Bland,  it  would  hardly  have  paid  to  send  for 
all  the  way  to  Augusta.  But  his  main  purpose 
in  such  visitations  was  to  have  chattings  with 
his  friend,  Mr.  Bull. 

"  I'm  always  glad  to  see  Jones  Huckaby," 
Mr.  Bull  often  remarked  kindly ;  "  the  poor  fel 
ler  is  natchul  fond  of  news,  and  he  unfortunate 
live  whar  they  ain't  any,  or  mighty  little  to  be 
had." 

During  one  of  these  visits  Mr.  Bull  spoke  of 
Jack  Withers,  and  intimated  a  willingness  to  in 
vest  in  him  on  proper  conditions.  Mr.  Huckaby 
then  remarked  that  there  was  a  boy  over  on  his 
side  of  the  river  who,  people  said,  could  get  over 
ground  right  well,  and  he  would  not  be  surprised 
if  he  could  beat  the  Fulsom  Creek  champion. 

"  Feel  like  invessin'  anything  on  that,  Jones  ?  " 

He  spoke  as  carefully  as  possible,  meaning  to 
hide  his  eagerness.  Mr.  Huckaby  named  a  dol 
lar,  but,  forced  by  the  other's  contempt  for  small 
figures,  and  in  view  of  the  advantage  to  the 
store,  where  the  race  must  be  had,  of  collecting 
a  considerable  number  from  both  sides  of  the 
river,  rose  to  ten.  From  his  huge  pocket-book 
Mr.  Bull  took  out  and  threw  down  a  ten-dollar 
bill  upon  the  counter  of  Mr.  Bland,  who  was  to 
be  stake-holder.  From  many  a  pocket  Mr.  Huck- 


10        OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

aby  eked  out  what  would  cover  it,  sighing  the 
while  with  painful  apprehension. 

"Eb  Bull,"  he  said,  in  humble  but  manly  sense 
of  every  freeman's  right  to  utter  his  mind  even 
in  the  presence  of  men  enjoying  society  advan 
tages  so  far  superior,  "you  town  people  has  a 
contempt  of  country  folks  like  me  that  has  to 
make  their  livin'  by  the  sweat  o'  their  brow ;  but 
—  but"  — then  Mr.  Huckaby  shook  his  head,  as 
if  there  were  a  few  things  in  rural  existence  that 
the  proudest  city  aristocrat  could  have  no  just 
occasion  to  despise. 

"M-  no,  Jones,"  answered  Mr.  Bull;  "there 
you're  mistaken,  and  it's  because  of  our  manner. 
M-  of  course  we  has  our  privileges,  n-  and  our 
advantages,  n-  and  —  but  yit  we  has  our  respects 
of  some  country  people,  n-  that  they  has  the  am 
bition  like  you  has,  to  git  out,  or  try  to  git  out, 
of  their  ign'ance." 

Talking  to  Jack  Withers  afterward,  Mr.  Bull 
said  :  "  I  had  to  flarter  up  Jones  Huckaby  power 
ful  before  I  could  git  the  fellow  up  to  the  p'int 
of  invessin'  to  a  figger  as  would  make  it  worth 
while  to  cross  over  the  river  that  fur.  Them 
country  people  is  awful  skeery.  My  money  is 
invessed  in  you,  boy,  and  when  the  thing's  over, 
we'll  all  try  n-  see  if  we  can't  have  some  fun  in 
a  way  not  too  public  and  p'inted." 


MR.    EBEN   BULL'S   INVESTMENTS  (     ll 


II 

* 

THE  race  was  set  for  the  Saturday  following 
tlie  next  ensuing,  Mr.  Huckaby  asking,  and  Mr. 
Bull  allowing,  the  intervening  days  for  getting 
in  such  new  supplies  as  were  likely  to  be  in 
demand  at  the  store.  Our  boys  were  elated. 
Only  Jack  Withers,  noble  fellow  that  he  was, 
declined  to  indulge  triumph  in  advance  over  a 
boy  that  he  had  heard  was  quite  poor. 

A  mile  beyond  the  river  was  an  outlying  field 
of  fifty  or  more  acres  covered  with  a  growth  of 
"old-field"  pines,  beneath  which  were  innum 
erable  strawberry-vines.  Thither,  during  the 
season  of  that  fruit,  young  persons  in  the  neigh 
borhood  often  repaired.  In  the  early  part  of 
the  week  it  was  given  out  that  several  gentle 
men  were  to  make  an  excursion  to  this  field, 
and  were  willing  to  take  with  them  as  many  of 
the  schoolboys  as  could  get  leave.  The  solemn 
mystery  with  which  this  announcement  was 
repeated  several  times  by  Mr.  Bull  was  the 
subject  of  some  pleasant  comment  among  the 
ladies. 

It  happened  at  the  time  that  I  was  indebted 
to  the  amount  of  twenty-five  cents  to  Sally 
Burch,  a  decent,  elderly  colored  woman  who 
made  and  vended  ginger-cakes  at  her  home  near 


12        OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEOEGIA 

the  church.  This  sum  had  been  overdue  longer 
than  she  or  I  had  expected  when  the  credit  was 
given.  In  those  times  pocket-money  was  not  at 
all  usual  among  planters,  even  those  with  large 
plantations,  because,  getting  their  income  from 
cotton  only  once  in  the  year,  after  the  payment 
of  store-accounts,  the  rest  —  except  a  reservation 
nearly  always  too  little  for  contingent  cash  ex 
penses —  was  invested  in  other  property.  We 
boys  had  our  allowance  on  Christmas  and 
Fourth  of  July,  but  not  many  were  able  usually 
to  make  both  ends  meet  at  the  recurrence  of 
one  of  these  happy  seasons,  so  remote  from  its 
predecessor.  On  this  occasion  it  occurred  to  me 
that  an  investment  of  a  quarter  quietly  put  upon 
Jack  Withers  might  not  be  too  grossly  improper, 
would  be  entirely  safe,  and  would  enable  me  to 
square  my  account  with  Sally  Burch,  into  whose 
eyes  for  some  time  past,  I  had  not  been  able  to 
look  with  composure.  Therefore,  at  nightfall 
on  Friday,  I  approached  Uncle  Gill,  our  head 
man-servant,  for  a  loan.  Preliminary  to  the 
application,  I  carried  to  the  stable  corn  from 
the  crib  and  fodder  from  the  loft,  and,  after 
getting  a  word  of  praise,  spoke  my  mind. 

"  Marse  Philly,"  answered  the  old  man,  paus 
ing,  with  currycomb  in  hand,  "whut,  name  o' 
goodness,  you  want  wid  money  more'n  whut 
your  pappy  'low  you?" 


X3 

Mil.   EBEN  BULL'S  INVESTMENTS  13 

"  I  want  to  make  an  investment;  Uncle  Gill," 
I  replied. 

"  A  wes  —  you  want  make  me  believe  your 
ma  don't  make  wes'co'ts  enough  for  you  ? " 

I  made  him  understand  that,  instead  of  a 
waistcoat,  I  had  heard  of  something  that  was 
going  very  cheap,  for  nothing  indeed,  as  it  were, 
and  which  I  should  like  to  buy  with  as  little 
noise  as  possible  made  about  it.  After  some 
reflection,  taking  from  his  home-knit  woollen 
purse  a  quarter,  he  handed  it  to  me,  saying : 

"  I  done  made  up  my  mind  not  to  bodder  my 
self  lendin'  to  white  boys,  ev'y  sence  de  trouble 
I  had  'long  wid  two  un  'em,  which  I  loant  one 
un  'em  a  thrip  en  'nother  a  seb'n  pens,  en 
dee  kep'  on  puttin'  me  off,  en  puttin'  me  off, 
whell  I  had  to  make  out  like  I  gwine  to  dey 
pappies ;  en  dee  knowed  dey  pappies  would 
mighty  nigh  burn  'em  up  wid  de  hick'ry  for 
borrowin'  money  en  not  payin'  back,  en  special 
from  niggers,  en  all  dat,  befo'  I  could  killect  my 
debt.  But  I  know  you  ain'  gwine  to  projict 
wid  me  if  you  can  he'p  it.  Take  de  quarter,  en 
go  'long  wid  you,  en  maybe  de  man,  when  he 
see  de  money  in  your  hand,  he'll  fall  yit  furder. 
People,  when  dey  gwine  tradin'  dee  has  to  study 
'bout  sich  things,  mon." 

Many  another  coin  of  that  and  less  volume 
was  gotten  in  that  and  similar  ways  before  the 


14  OLD  TIMES   IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

eventful  day.  Not  that  we  were  led  by  any 
special  words  of  Mr.  Bull,  who  was  not  a  man 
to  urge  children  to  go  directly  against  the 
known  wishes  of  their  parents  and  teachers ; 
but  the  deep  solemnity  of  his  words  and  looks, 
imparting  great  contentment,  the  sarcastic  pity 
he  expressed  for  the  ignorant  temerity  of  Mr. 
Huckaby  —  these  and  other  things  made  us  note 
that  his  mind  was  enjoying  an  assurance  which 
victory  already  achieved  and  acknowledged 
could  not  have  enhanced.  Along  with  this  was 
our  confidence  in  Jack,  which  was  as  boundless 
as  the  skies. 

Our  party  decided  not  to  visit  the  strawberry- 
fields  until  after  the  race.  All  of  the  boys 
except  Jack  travelled  on  foot,  Mr.  Bull,  for  the 
sake  of  keeping  him  entirely  fresh,  taking  him 
over  in  a  gig.  We  found  quite  as  large  a  com 
pany  as  we  were  already  gathered.  Among 
them,  I  noticed,  moving  about  apparently  with 
some  anxiety,  a  pitiful-looking  boy  of  about  my 
height,  but  thinner.  On  a  sort  of  sugar-loaf 
head  was  an  irregular  crop  of  hair  of  every 
shade  of  white,  surmounted  by  a  wool  hat  the 
rim  of  which  in  front  for  the  breadth  of  his 
forehead  had  been  torn  away.  His  upper  lip 
made  a  sort  of  arch  over  two  of  the  biggest, 
longest,  whitest  teeth  I  have  ever  seen.  His 
copperas-dyed,  home-made  clothes,  short  in  the 


MR.   EBEN   BULL'S   INVESTMENTS  15 

legs  and  arms,  were  out  at  the  knees  and  elbows. 
His  bowed  legs  looked  like  two  long  parentheses. 

"P'int  out  your  nag,  Jones/'  said  Bull,  when 
we  had  rested  several  minutes. 

"  Here,  Peeky,"  called  Mr.  Huckaby,  and  the 
boy  I  had  noticed  came  creeping.  Mr.  Huckaby 
whispered  to  Mr.  Bull  that  he  was  very  timid, 
and  was  afraid  that  if  he  should  be  beaten,  as 
he  expected,  the  town  boys  might  bully  and 
otherwise  maltreat  him.  Indeed  he  would  not 
consent  to  make  the  race  until  assured  that  the 
goal  should  be  in  the  direction  of  his  own  home, 
so  that  he  might  avoid  more  easily  the  conse 
quences  of  defeat. 

"This  him?"  asked  Mr.  Bull,  seeming  to  be 
rather  taken  aback  by  the  strange  figure  that 
presented  itself. 

"  That's  him,"  answered  Mr.  Huckaby.  Then 
he  said  to  the  boy :  "  Needn't  be  oneasy,  Peeky. 
These  is  all  good  friendly  people,  and  wouldn't 
hurt  nary  ha'r  on  your  head/' 

After  inspecting  him  for  some  time  with  se 
verest  scrutiny,  as  a  philosopher  might  ponder 
withal  a  newly  discovered,  unique,  abnormal 
specimen  of  animate  existence,  Mr.  Bull,  in  a 
very  deep  tone,  asked  : 

"  W  —  what's  your  name,  my  son  ?  " 

"Fee  —  Feeky  Gwiz  —  Gwizzle,  sir."  It 
sounded  much  like  the  whining  of  a  cat. 


16  OLD  TIMES   IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

Mr.  Bull  grunted  painfully,  and  involuntarily 
took  a  step  backward;  recovering  himself,  lie 
said,  "Feefee  who?" 

"  His  name  is  Peeky  Grizzle,  Eb,"  Mr.  Huck- 
aby  answered  for  him.  "  He  have  a  kind  of 
stoppage  in  his  speech,  and  are  ruther  tongue- 
tied  ;  but  them  don't  hender  Peeky  from  bein' 
of  a  nice,  smart,  good  boy,  not  they  don't." 

"  How  old  you  call  yourself  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Bull. 

"  Mam  —  mammy  say  I  fo'teen ;  dad  —  daddy 
say  I  worse 'n  dat." 

"  That's  jest  about  my  ric'lection  of  Peeky's 
age,"  said  Mr.  Huckaby.  "  My  opinion  of  Peeky 
Grizzle  is,  he's  just  about  fourteen  year  old,  and 
a  leetle  on  the  rise,  and  a  more  biddable  boy  than 
him  I  don't  know  nowhars." 

Peeky  glanced  with  rapid  alternation  toward 
Mr.  Huckaby  and  Mr.  Lazenberry,  a  neighbor 
and  special  friend,  and  nervously  awaited  Mr. 
Bull's  further  interrogatings.  Mr.  Bull  slowly 
lifted  his  head,  looked  up  toward  the  zenith, 
and  with  the  most  solemn  thoughtfulness  stroked 
his  chin  through  the  full  length  of  his  fingers. 
It  was  evident  that  some  perturbation  had  come 
over  his  mind.  At  length  he  looked  down  again 
upon  Peeky,  and  said : 

"Ya-as.  You  ruther  take  me  —  by  surprise. 
But  don't  you  be  oneasy,  my  son ;  h'm  —  them 
boys  they  ain't  no  harm  in  them,  ef  they  is  town 


MR.   EBEN   BULL'S   INVESTMENTS  17 

boys.  They  jes  come  over  here  for  a  little  fun  ; 
that's  all.  If  you  git  beat,  m-  or  if  you  beat, 
I'll  see  to  it  myself  that  you  ain't  hurted ;  and 
not  only  that,  but  you  shall  have  a  gingy-cake, 
and  a  segyar  to  boot,  if  you've  learnt  how  to 
smoke  yit." 

Then,  taking  Jack  aside,  he  said  darkly : 
"Jack,  them  legs  o'  yourn  got  to  work  every 
muscle  in  'em.  They  ain't  never  any  tellin' 
what's  in  one  o'  these  here  wild  old-field  colts, 
special  sech  a  ontimely-lookin'  one  as  this  here. 
M-  Feefeeky,  or  whatsomever  his  name  is,  my 
opinion  is  that  ef  you  git  away  from  him  m-  you 
got  to  git  away  from  him  at  the  first  jump." 

When  all  preliminaries  had  been  settled,  a 
hundred  yards  were  stepped  off.  The  contes 
tants  were  to  break  by  me,  Mr.  Huckaby  and 
one  of  our  boys  were  to  watch  the  starting,  and 
Mr.  Bull  and  a  trans-Ogeechean  went  forward 
to  stand  at  the  farther  end  of  the  limit.  Peeky 
gave  a  perceptible  shiver  as  he  and  Jack  joined 
hands.  When  the  break  was  made,  Peeky,  who 
would  not  part  from  his  hat,  giving  a  momen 
tary  glance  at  Jack,  made  first  for  his  own  ex 
treme  side  of  the  road,  and  then  —  for  home. 
Call  his  movement  running  —  that  is,  human 
running — I  should  not.  It  was  flight.  Yes,  sirs, 
flight !  Tucking  low  his  back  and  shoulders,  lift 
ing  his  face  aloft,  he  extended  both  his  arms 


18  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

at  length,  and  with  his  open  hands,  their  palms 
turned  backward,  fanned  behind  him  the  air 
through  which  he  sped  like  a  swallow  skimming 
a  mill-pond.  Jack,  after  taking  not  more  than 
a  dozen  strides,  convinced  that  he  might  as  well 
try  to  overtake  a  frightened  antelope,  stopped, 
and,  turning  back,  cried : 

"  Boys,  why  in  thunder  don't  you  all  laugh  ? 
Don't  you  see  that  I'm  doing  my  level  best  to 
laugh  myself,  and  can't  ?  I  know  your  money 
is  all  gone ;  but  if  you'll  join  those  other  fellows, 
and  raise  a  good  laugh,  I'll  treat  the  crowd  to 
ginger-cakes." 

He  had  refrained  from  investing  in  himself, 
as  he  said,  out  of  decency.  We  raised  a  shout 
that  was  hoped  to  make  up  in  sound  what  it 
lacked  in  heartiness,  and  the  other  side  joined 
in  deafening  chorus.  But  that  Peeky  Grizzle! 
Ah,  sirs,  you  should  have  seen  him  then  !  Turn 
ing  back  one  eye  momentarily  at  the  sound,  his 
legs  and  his  hands  seemed  actually  to  flutter  as 
he  swept  along.  Dipping  his  head  slightly  as 
he  passed  by  Mr.  Bull,  on  and  on  he  fled,  along 
the  level  two  hundred  yards  in  further  extent, 
up  the  hill  of  fifty  or  sixty  in  ascent,  then  dis 
appeared  from  our  view.  Not  less  interesting 
was  Mr.  Eben  Bull.  Urged  by  a  necessity 
as  stern  as  fate,  when  the  fugitive  passed,  he 
turned  and  looked  at  him  in  silence  as  long  as 


ME.   EBEN   BULL'S    INVESTMENTS  19 

he  could  be  seen.  Then  in  the  loudest  tones, 
and  as  piteous  as  ever  came  from  mouth  of  the 
most  beseeching  suppliant,  he  shouted : 

"M-  why  don't  —  m-  what  make — m- can't 
the  ongodly,  everlastin'  thing  —  m-  can't  it  stop 
itself?" 

With  slow,  offended  majesty  he  stalked  back 
toward  the  store.  Jack,  after  handing  Mr. 
Huckaby  half  a  dollar  for  Peeky,  hurriedly  in 
vested  the  balance  of  his  money  in  cakes,  and 
then  said : 

"  Let's  be  off  from  this  place,  boys.  I  wouldn't 
meet  old  man  Bull  now  for  five  dollars,  and  I 
wouldn't  ride  back  with  him,  even  if  he  wanted 
me,  for  a  hundred." 

We  heard  the  tittering  behind  us  as  we  were 
hastening  away.  When  we  got  out  of  sight  we 
slacked  our  pace,  and  taking  out  our  cakes,  ate 
them  in  humbleness. 

"  They  don't  make  cakes  over  here  like  old 
Aunt  Sally  Burch,"  said  Tom  Gatlin,  and  there 
was  not  a  dissentient  voice. 

WE  heard  afterward  of  Mr.  Bull's  doings  at 
the  store.  When  he  had  reached  it,  he  lifted 
his  head  heavily  from  the  subdued  attitude  in 
which  it  had  been  hanging,  and,  looking  around, 
inquired : 

"  M-  whar's  all  our  boys  ?  " 


20  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

When  told  how  and  why  Jack  had  hurried 
us  away,  he  said,  with  a  profound  sigh : 

"  Needn't  done  no  sich  a  thing.  N-  I'd  'a' 
not  scolded  Jack  Withers,  h-  not  nary  single 
word." 

Turning  upon  Mr.  Huckaby,  he  frowned  dis 
mally  with  what  seemed  to  be  the  pain  of  sup 
pressing  his  righteous  indignation.  In  a  few 
moments  he  said : 

"  M-  Jones  Huckaby,  you  took  the  'vantage  of 
me.  N-  that  creetur  ain't  folks.  M-  blest  if  I 
believe  it's  folks  ;  n-  that  is,  in  the  gen'l  way 
of  folks  in  gen'l.  N-  Jack  Withers,  nor  nary 
'nother  human,  they  jest  as  well  run  ag'ins' 
thunder.  My  opinion  is  that  sich  a  onreg'lar 
creeter  as  that,  if  it  was  left  to  a  n-  skidule  o' 
men  that  makes  a  practice  o'  understandin'  and 
rig'latin'  invessments  n-  accordin'  to  the  scale 
and  the  code  o'  honor,  they'd  say,  if  not  a  for 
feit,  it  ought  leastways  to  be  a  draw." 

"  Oh  now,  come  now,  Eb,  that's  your  town, 

high—- 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  a-gwine  to  make  a  great  to-do 
about  it,  exceptin'  to  express  my  n-  opinions. 
I  left  down  a  gap  in  my  calc'lations  and  you 
stepped  on  me  onexpected.  Let  her  go.  Whar 
you  supposin'  the  thing  tuck  up  at,  n-  Jones  ?  " 

"  Home,"  answered  Mr.  Huckaby.  "  He'll  not 
take  up  this  side  o'  thar." 


MR.   EBEN  BULL'S   INVESTMENTS  21 

"  How  fur's  that  ?  " 

"  About  four  mile." 

"  M-  well,  it's  about  thar  by  now.  Did  you 
know  how  it  could  git  over  ground  ?  " 

"  Why,  no ;  that  is,  not  egzack,  El).  I  has 
never  see  him  run,  not  myself,  tell  to-day;  but 
I've  heerd  some  o'  his  neighbors,  special  Jim 
Lazenberry  here,  talk  about  him,  and  which 
they  perceeded  on  to  say,  that  when  him  or  his 
mammy  want  a  rabbit,  Peeky  take  out  a  little 
fise-dog  he  have  to  jump  him,  and  then  him 
pick  him  up.  Whut  make  him  keep  on  home, 
he  were  afeered  o'  them  town  boys.  He's  a 
ruther  skeery  kind  o'  boy,  a  not  being  so  very 
peert  in  his  mind." 

"  N-  hit  mayn't  be  peert  in  what  mind  it 
have ;  m-  but  hit  make  up  in  hits  laigs,  which 
if  I  ever  see  a  pa'r  o'  laigs  the  same  as  pot-hooks, 
hit's  his'n ;  tell  the  truth,  I  were  ruther  feard  o' 
them  laigs  when  I  first  lay  eye  on  'em." 

After  revolving  with  death-like  solemnity  a 
thought  in  his  mind,  he  said : 

"  M-  Jones  Huckaby,  and  you,  Jeemes  Lazen 
berry,  n-  and  you  gentlemen,  and  boys,  n-  one 
and  all  you  hear  me.  Hit's  my  last  and  ownlest 
invessment.  If  I  got  to  git  broke  and  busted  to 
boot,  hit's  got  to  come  in  a  natchul  way.  Far' 
you  well." 

He  kept  his  vow.     Even  down  to  old  age  he 


22        OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

was  a  frequent  admonisher  against  investing  in 
feats  or  games  of  chance  of  every  sort. 

"  N-  no,  sir,"  hundreds  of  times  he  was  heard 
to  say ;  "  h-  my  advices  is  ag'ins'  invessment 
always.  I  has  had  the  expe'unce  of  'em.  The 
de-ficulty  about  invessments  is,  when  a  man  is 
certain  in  his  mind  n-  that  he  know  every 
blessed  thing  about  whut  he's  invessin'  on,  n- 
them's  the  very  time  when  he  don't  know  n-  one 
cussed  thing  about  it ;  and  they  bound  to  break 
whoever  f oiler  'em." 

Ay  ?  You'd  like  to  hear  how  Uncle  Gill's  in 
vestment  in  me  turned  out  ?  Well,  I  am  glad 
to  be  able  to  make  satisfactory  answer.  The 
matter  was  talked  about  so  much  that  I  soon 
confessed  rny  part  to  my  mother,  and  besought  her 
forgiveness  and  protection  against  my  father 
when  it  should  get  to  his  ears.  After  a  serious, 
affectionate  rebuke,  I  obtained  both  under  a 
pledge  not  to  do  so  again.  Then  with  the  half- 
dollar  she  gave  me,  I  liquidated  the  debts  owed 
to  Uncle  Gill  and  Sally  Burch.  My  own  refor 
mation  was  as  quick,  and  thus  far  has  been  as 
steadfast,  as  Mr.  Bull's.  From  that  day,  borrow 
ing  that  gentleman's  oft-repeated  asseveration, 
I  have  never  "  invessed." 


MR.   CUMMIN'S  RELINQUISHMENT 


ME.   CUMMIN'S  RELINQUISHMENT 

MR.  JOHN  CUMMIN  had  been  called  first  "Uncle 
Jack/'  and  subsequently  "Uncle  Jacky  "  long  be 
fore  I  was  ever  born.  He  was  a  stoutish,  plain, 
tolerably  educated,  thoroughly  honest,  intensely 
good-hearted,  well-to-do  country  gentleman  of 
whom  all  of  his  acquaintances  used  to  speak 
with  much  respect,  even  much  affection,  although 
he  was  nothing  in  this  wide  world  but  an  old 
bachelor ;  because,  you  must  know,  he  had  not 
become  so  from  any  wilful  neglect  of  such  matri 
monial  opportunities  as  had  come,  or  nearly  had 
come,  in  his  way  in  the  times  of  his  youth,  man 
hood,  and  even  incipient  old  age.  According  to 
tradition,  besides  having,  when  a  young  man,  a 
good  property  and  first-rate  habits,  he  was  good- 
looking  enough  for  any  young  woman  in  the 
whole  neighborhood  whose  demands  in  that 
line  were  not  extravagantly  unreasonable.  He 
had  not  been  without  several  romantic  experi 
ences  which  had  ended  contrary  to  his  many 
hopes  and  even  a  few  of  his  expectations.  Some 
sadness,  at  last  become  painless,  was  suspected 

25 


26  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

to  linger  within  his  heart  in  recollection  of  one 
of  these  experiences  in  particular;  yet  upon  the 
whole  he  lived  ever  in  a  reasonable  contentment, 
and  not  seldom  indulged  in  jesting  where  he  was 
entirely  sure  that  it  would  do  no  hurt.  I  hap 
pened  to  find  out  one  day  that,  along  with  the 
sadness  just  mentioned,  if  there  were  not,  there 
very  well  might  be,  some  pride  in  recalling  a 
sacrifice  once  made  by  him  in  the  face  of  a  sorely 
trying  temptation. 

Knowing  me  from  my  birth,  and  being  a  dear 
friend  of  our  family,  when  I  came  to  the  Bar  he 
took  much  interest  in  my  success,  occasionally 
bringing  or  advising  others  to  carry  to  me  cases 
of  not  great  importance.  At  such  times  he  would 
speak  jocosely  about  thus : 

"Here's  a  little  somethin'  I  brought  you  to 
try  your  hand  on.  They  ain't  much  in  it :  I 
don't  know  if  I  hadn't  about  as  soon  lose  it  as 
win  it,  and  so  I  brought  it  to  you.  Umph  !  you 
understand." 

One  day,  some  years  afterward,  being  now 
quite  an  old  man,  he  came  into  my  office  in 
order  to  give  me  instructions  about  his  last  will 
and  testament,  which  he  wished  me  to  write. 
One  of  the  items  led  me  to  inquire  how  it 
was  that  he  had  never  married. 

He  was  silent  for  several  moments,  then  with 
something  of  a  smile  on  his  face  answered : 


ME.  CUMMIN'S  KELINQUISHMENT  27 

"Well,  now,  my  young  lawyer,  what  you 
asked  you  might  call  jest  one  single  lone  ques- 
t'on  by  itself ;  but  I  should,  that  is,  me  myself, 
I  should  call  it  a  many  a  quest' on ;  and  if  I  was 
to  go  over  all  of  'em  and  tell  you  all  what  I 
done,  and  all  what  I  didn't  do,  and  then  turn 
round  and  norate  all  the  whys  and  the  where 
fores  on  the  lines  o'  them  quest'ons,  it  would 
be  a  biogerphy  —  yes,  sir,  a  perfect  biogerphy, 
and  nothin'  short  o'  that;  that  is,  you  under 
stand,  I  mean  if  I  was  to  begin  at  the  beginning 
which  you  might  call  it  my  first  sproutin'  days, 
on  and  on,  down  twell  the  time  of  my  dryin'  up 
for  good,  which  you  mayn't  believe  it,  but  it 
were,  off  and  on,  forty  year  and  better.  Oh, 
you  may  lift  up  your  eyebrow,  for  you  young 
people  think  time  a  man  git  to  be  forty  and  the 
rise,  it's  too  late  for  him  to  be  keerin'  about  such 
a  thing  as  marryin'  and  the  havin'  of  a  wife,  and 
he  better  be  spendin'  o'  his  time  in  lookin'  out 
how  he's  to  stand  in  the  next  world.  And  that's 
jest  where  you're  all  monst'ous  bad  mistaken, 
as  I  know  by  expe'unce." 

After  a  pause,  in  which  he  seemed  to  be  in 
dulging  a  remote  retrospect,  he  continued : 

"  Yes,  yes,  indeed.  I  begun  soon  and  I  helt 
on  late.  It  first  struck  me  when  I  were  about 
fifteen  year  old,  and  it  struck  me  deep  —  deep 
as  you  ever  see  a  colt  stuck  in  the  mire  of  a 


28  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

creek-bottom  when  it  seem  like  lie  can't  pull 
hisself  out,  not  by  his  own  strenk.  And  albe'  I 
were  as  healthy  a  boy  as  you  ever  knowed,  I 
got  weakly  and  puny,  and  I  lost  great  quantity 
of  my  appertite  for  my  victuals,  and  I  tried  to 
write  some  po'try,  but  fort'nate  couldn't,  be 
cause  I  never  learnt  how,  and  —  well,  sir,  fact 
is,  I  jest  ketched  the  moloncholy  all  thoo  and 
thoo  me,  that  I  did.  But  one  thing  I  knewed 
for  cert'n,  and  that  were,  if  my  father  was  to 
happen  to  find  out  the  whole  fix  I  were  in,  he'd 
take  me  out  it  with  the  hick'ry,  if  it  couldn't 
be  took  out  no  other  way,  and  that  speedy. 
And  so  I  swallowed  much  of  it  as  I  could, 
a-knowin'  well  as  if  anybody  told  me  so  that  I 
had  begun  to  bark  too  soon,  and  up  the  wrong 
tree  at  that ;  for  the  girl  were  six  year  older  than 
me,  and  'tweren't  so  very  long  time  before  she 
got  married,  and  so  then,  why  you  know,  I  jest 
had  to  give  it  up,  of  course ;  and  I  done  it  like 
a  honer'ble  man  and  a  honer'ble  boy'll  always 
do,  which  if  he  didn't,  somebody  ought  to  shoot 
him,  which  that  have  been  my  opinion  about 
sech  a  thing  from  fur  back  as  I  can  ric'lect. 

"  Now,  that  were  my  first  off-start  in  that 
kind  o'  business,  if  a  body  might  name  sech  a 
thing  by  the  name  o'  business.  Didn't  I  tell 
you  if  I  was  to  answer  all  your  quest'on,  it'd 
be  a  biogerphy  ?  " 


ME.  CUMMIN'S  EEUXQUISHMZNT  29 

I  assured  him  that  I  was  much  interested  in 
his  talk,  and  that  I  would  like  to  hear  more  of 
it,  if  the  recital  were  not  painful  or  disagreeable 
to  him. 

"  Oh,  no ;  oh,  no.  It  ain't  no  painful  to  me 
now,  and,  as  to  that,  no  dis'greeble,  if  you  keer 
to  knowr  about  it.  I  done  got  over  sech  as  that 
a  long  ago.  Well,  if  you  want  me  to  tell 
you  jest  for  your  own  cur'osity,  it  weren't  so 
very  long  before  I  got  in  ag'in,  and  I  kept  on 
a-gittin'  in,  sometimes  ruther  mild,  but  'casional 
strong  as  piz'n.  For  rny  expe'unce  is  that  this 
here  thing  people  calls  love  it  takes  holt  of 
people  in  dift'er'nt  and  war'ous  ways.  Some 
times  it  ain't  much  more  trouble  to  a  feller  than 
a  bad  cold,  or  a  crick  in  the  neck,  or  a  bile  on 
the  elbow ;  which  sech  as  that  is  ill-con venant, 
to  be  sure,  matter  o'  course,  but  he  know  it  ain't 
a-goin'  to  kill  him  out  and  out.  nor  run  him 
a-ravin'  distracted ;  but  if  he'll  go  long  and 
have  patient,  he'll  git  over  it  after  a  while, 
more  or  less.  Then  ag'in  the  tiling  strike  him 
and  it  break  out  all  over  him ;  and  he  jest  know 
something's  got  to  be  done  or  they  ain't  no 
telliii'  what'll  happen ;  I've  had  all  the  syinp- 
tims.  and  I  know  'em  same  as  a  book. 

"But  the  de'ficulty  —  that  is.  I  may  say.  the 
de-ficultest  thing  —  with  me  were.  I  were  never 
peert  enough  at  the  business  like  women  want  a 


30        OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

feller  to  be ;  and  many  time  when  I  have  been 
studyin'  about  how  to  fix  up  and  express  my 
mind  like  it  seemed  to  me  a  man  by  good  rights 
ought  to  express  hisself  on  sech  a  ser'ous  and 
solemn  occasion,  why,  sir,  another  feller  have 
come  in  that  were  peerter  in  his  words,  and  in 
his  motions,  and  in  his  ways  in  gen'l,  and  he 
have  used  a  whole  lot  o'  dictionary  language  I 
never  learnt,  and  the  first  I  knowed,  he  have 
over-persuaded  my  sweetheart,  and  she  have 
flewed  away  with  him  —  clean  away." 

He  waved  his  hand  sadly  yet  uncomplainingly 
to  the  far-away  fugitives,  and  thus  proceeded  : 

"  You  want  to  know  who  they  was  that  got 
in  ahead  o'  me  that  way  the  oftenest?  Well, 
sir,  it  was  widowers,  that  somehow  they  know 
how  to  make  their  selves  the  overpersuadin'est 
to  women  of  all  that  goes.  Why,  sir,  they  can 
git  up  a  cry  whensoever  they  want  to,  which 
women  can't  always  stand  up  against  sech  as 
that,  and  they  know  it ;  and  the  older  they  git, 
the  younger  the  female  they'll  choosen  for  their 
companion  if  they  can,  and  the  pitifuller  they'll 
put  up  their  cry  in'  to  'em.  Yes,  sir ;  that's  my 
expe'unce  o'  them  widowers." 

He  shook  his  head  at  thought  of  the  utter 
emptiness  of  endeavors  on  the  part  of  such  as 
he  to  compete  with  rivals  so  experienced  and 
artful. 


MB.  CUMMIN'S  EELINQUISHMENT  31 

"And  so  it  kept  on,  first  one  way,  then 
another,  ontwell  I  got  to  forty,  —  goin'  on  to 
forty-one,  —  and  people  begun  to  call  me  old 
bachelor,  when  I  were  no  more  a-wantin'  to  be 
one  o'  them  creaturs  than  you  do  this  minute 
(that  people  say  is  already  done  engaged),  not 
one  grain  more :  that  I  didn't,  because  I  always 
did  believe  of  all  things  the  good  Lord  in  his 
wisdom  ever  make,  they  are  the  driest  and  un- 
uselessest.  And  then  some  of  the  young  girls 
and  boys  they  must  begin  to  call  me  Uncle 
Jack,  and  it  was  Uncle  Jack  this,  and  Uncle 
Jack  that ;  yit,  sick  as  it  made  me  to  hear 
'em,  I  darnesn't  let  on,  a-knowin'  if  I  did,  it 
would  only  make  'em  double  it  on  me.  But 
it  had  the  eeffect,  all  I  could  do  to  help  myself, 
to  make  me  yit  slower  in  all  my  gaits ;  and 
when,  along  up  to  fifty  and  the  rise,  they  sot  in 
a-callin'  of  me  Uncle  Jacky,  I  suspicioned  strong 
that  exceptin'  somethin'  turned  up  soon  and 
onexpected  like,  my  time  for  sech  as  that  would 
be  up.  And  sure  enough  it  did ;  that  is,  I 
thought  it  did,  and  it  come  a  mighty  nigh 
a-doin'  of  it." 

There  was  an  appealing  look  on  his  face  as 
in  softened  tone  he  proceeded  : 

"  The  last  time  my  mind  were  worked  up  in 
that  kind  o'  style,  it  were  where  I  come  the 
nighest,  and  it  were  the  closetest  and  the  try- 


32  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

in'est  of  'em  all.  You  needn't  tell  anybody  I 
told  you  about  it  —  at  all  ewents,  twell  arfter 
I'm  gone.  I  were  fifty-six — in  my  fifty-seb'nt'. 
It  were  Matildy  Owens,  who  she  were  then 
twenty-two.  She  were  a  perfect  fa'r  pink  for 
beautiful  and  sweet  —  that  she  were ;  and  she 
were  sensible,  and  she  were  modest,  and  she 
were  dilicate,  and  she  were  home-stayin',  and 
she  were  industr'ous.  Fact  is,  to  my  belief  twell 
yit  her  ekal  weren't  in  all  around,  and  that's 
sayin'  a  heap ;  for  in  them  days,  as  for  pooty, 
nice,  industr'ous  girls  —  well,  all  I  got  to  say, 
_I  don't  see  them  now  to  compar'  with  'em, 
that  I  don't.  I  been  havin'  my  eye  on  Matildy 
Owens  four  or  five  year,  and  then  I  sot  in 
a-courtin'  of  her  jest  because  I  loved  her  to 
that  that  I  couldn't  keep  from  it.  I  had  a 
plenty  o'  prop'ty,  and  I  knowed  this.  I  could 
make  her/parrents,  well  as  her,  have  more  com 
forts.  They  was  poor,  but  they  lived  decent. 
It  were  my  meanin'  to  pay  her  father  out  o' 
all  debt,  and  help  him  fix  up  his  house  better, 
and  some  other  ways  he  needed.  When  him 
and  her  ma  found  out  what  were  on  my  mind, 
they  was  willin'  for  me  to  have  her,  and  they 
ruther  had  been  a-persuadin'  of  her  to  that 
eeffect./  And  so,  when  I  put  the  quest'on  down 
to  her  pine-blank,  she  said  that  yes  she'd  have 
me,  and  she  said  it  squar'  out  and  out,  calm, 


ME.  CUMMIN'S  RELINQUISHMENT  33 

same  like  I'd  asked  her  about  the  weather  or 
the  time  o'  day.  Tell  the  truth,  it  were  the 
happiest  of  all  my  born  days,  and  I  never  for 
got  it:  that  I  never  did.  She  have  never  — 
that  is,  to  my  face  —  Matildy  Owens  have  never 
called  me  Uncle  Jacky,  nor  not  even  Uncle  Jack, 
and  that  made  me  warm  up  to  her  the  closeter, 
and  let  me  feel  I  weren't  so  very  everlastin' 
too  old  for  her,  that  it  did.  And  I  said  to 
myself,  '  Jack  Cummin,  you  are  gittin'  ruther 
oldish,  if  not  quite  yit  beginnin'  to  git  old,  and 
Matildy  Owens  is  young ;  but  you  can  be  good 
to  Matildy,  and  not  git  jealous  of  her  because 
she's  got  and  is  ableeged  to  have  young  ways, 
which  you  hain't,  and  natchul  can't ;  and  when 
it  come  time  for  you  to  die  off  and  leave  her, 
you  can  leave  her  with  a  good  prop'ty  and  a 
plenty  for  her  parrents  to  live  on,  and  so  my 
opinion  is  you  can  take  the  resk.'  Now,  that's 
what  I  said  to  myself." 

Here  the  old  man  paused  and  rubbed  his 
head,  as  if  embarrassed  by  a  regret  which  his 
rehearsal  of  a  dear  experience  made  appear  to 
be  deeper  than  he  had  supposed.  Then,  con 
tinuing,  he  said : 

"  Well,  sir,  I  begun  to  think  about  it  with  the 
ser'ousness  that  a  man  had  ought  to  always  think 
about  sech  a  matter,  because  marryin'  is  a  se- 
r'ouser  and  a  solem'er  business  than  some  people 


34  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE  GEOEGIA 

look  at  it,  when  a  man  put  on  the  best  things 
he  can  rake  up  and  he  call  on  God  A'mighty  to 
testify  for  him  and  to  stand  by  him.  I  tell  you 
now  that  at  sech  a  time  a  man  have  got  —  well, 
he  jest  have  to  putt  hisself  right  on  the  squar'. 
That's  what  come  to  me  to  try  to  do  arfter 
thinkin'  about  it  in  the  ser'ous  way  I  been 
a-talkin'  to  you,  and  that's  what  final  I  did  do 
a'cordin'  to  my  ability." 

After  another  brief  pause,  he  cleared  his  throat 
with  some  violence  and  resumed  : 

"  They  ain't  much  more  of  it  to  tell ;  but 
what  they  is,  it's  to  the  p'int.  There  were 
a  young  fellow  —  you  know  Sam  Bowers.  A 
th'ivin'  man,  and  a  good  citizen,  Sam  is.  It 
were  him  —  that  same  Sam  Bowers.  Now,  Sam 
he  were  in  love  with  Matildy,  and  that  to  a 
pow'ful  extent.  But  he  were  poor  like  the 
Owenses,  and  when  I  took  to  goin'  over  there 
freckwent  and  he  suspicioned  what  was  up,  Sam 
drapped  out,  he  did.  I  were  ruther  sorry  for 
Sam ;  for  he  were  good-hearted,  toler'ble  in- 
dustr'ous,  and  oncommon  good-lookin'.  Some 
said  that  if  Sam  had  the  prop'ty  to  back  him 
up,  to  their  opinion  he  could  cut  in  now,  late 
as  it  were,  and  git  Matildy ;  and  them  words 
come  to  my  year.  And  so,  when,  as  I  tell  you 
now,  if  I  knowed  myself,  I  were  no  more  jeal 
ous  o'  Matildy  than  I  am  o'  you  this  minute, 


MR.  CUMMIN'S  RELINQUISHMENT  35 

yit  it  putt  me  to  thinkin'  a  sight  ser'ouser  than 
before ;  and  as  the  time  were  comin'  along  for 
the  app'intin'  o'  the  day,  it  seem  like  I  couldn't 
think  about  not  another  blessed  thing,  not  only 
in  the  daytime,  but  of  a  night  long  arfter  I 
went  to  bed;  and  when  I'd  wake  up  of  a 
mornin'  I'd  go  right  straight  to  thinkin'  about 
it  ag'in,  twell  it  seem  like  to  me,  if  somethin' 
weren't  done,  my  very  senses  was  goin'  to  give 
way,  and  that  in  short. 

"  Ahem  !  ahe-e-em !  Final  one  mornin'  I  rid 
over  there.  Matildy  met  me,  the  same  calm 
modest  as  ever.  I  said,  ' Howdy,  Matildy?'  and 
I  set  down  in  a  cheer.  I  darsn't  take  holt  of 
her  hand ;  for  I  do  think,  on  my  soul,  her  hand, 
spite  o'  the  work  she  done,  it  were  the  softest 
and  affectionest  I  ever  helt  in  mine  endurin'  all 
my  lifetime.  And  so  I  never  teched  it ;  but  I 
told  her  to  take  a  seat,  and  when  we  had  passed 
a  few  words,  like  people  always  does  when  they 
jest  met  and  howdy' d,  I  looked  at  her  squar', 
and  I  said,  '  Matildy,  I  come  over  this  mornin' 
to  ask  you  a  solemn  quest'on,  and  it's  if  do  you 
think  you  like  me  well  enough  to  marry  me  ? ' 
Well,  sir,  the  child  turned  pale.  Yit  she  said 
she  thought  she  did ;  leastways,  she  hoped  she 
did,  and  she  were  a-prayin'  every  day  and  every 
night  to  the  good  Lord  to  help  her  to  do  her  juty 
by  me.  And  then  I  says  to  her,  '  Matildy,  they 


36  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

tell  me  Sam  Bowers  is  in  love  with  you,  but 
the  feller  is  poor  and  have  therefore  helt  back, 
thinkin'  that,  if  nothin'  else,  would  hender  him 
from  makin'  the  connection.'  Well,  sir,  from 
white  she  turned  red,  red  as  any  rose  you  ever 
see,  and  I  see  some  water  in  her  eyes.  What 
you  reckon  I  done  then  ?  I  tried  to  look  un 
concerned,  when,  fact  is,  I  were  a-bilin'  over  all 
inside  o'  me.  And  then  I  says  to  her,  <  Matildy, 
my  child,  it  won't  do.  You've  tried  honest  to 
love  me,  and  you  can't.  I  might  have  knew, 
and  I  ought  to  have  knew,  it  were  ag'inst  nater 
to  do  it ;  I'm  thankful,  and  God  A'mighty  bless 
you  for  tryin'  it.  Now  let  me  tell  you  some- 
thin'  :  I'm  a-goin'  to  git  on  my  horse,  and  I'm 
a-goin'  straight  from  here  to  Sam  Bowers's,  and 
I'm  a-goin'  to  tell  Sam  that  I'll  let  him  have  the 
money  to  buy  a  piece  o'  land,  and  put  up  a 
decent  little  house,  and  stock  it  with  furnicher 
and  things  him  and  you'll  want  to  start  with, 
and  then  I'm  a-goin'  to  send  Sam  right  straight 
here  to  you.'  Them's  about  the  wery  words  I 
said  to  her.  Well,  sir,  she  riz,  she  did,  and  she 
cried,  and  she  said  that  no,  she  wanted  me  to  do 
no  sech,  but  to  let  things  stand  jest  like  they 
were  a-standin'  then.  You  see,  the  poor  child 
she  wanted  to  act  perfect  honer'ble,  and  I  never 
loved  her  before  like  I  loved  her  then  —  that  I 
never  did,  and  the  good  Lord  know  it.  And 


MR.  CUMMIN'S  KELINQUISHMENT  37 

when  I  riz  to  go,  she  helt  out  her  hand,  and  she 
putt  up  her  lips  like  I  might  kiss  'em  one  time. 
But  I  helt  up  my  hand  so,  jest  so,  and  I  turned 
away  from  her,  and  I  said,  '  No,  Matildy,  no ; 
I've  done  give  you  up  to  Sam,  and  Sam  mightn't 
like  it.'  And  I  never  told  her  good-by.  Seem 
to  me  like  I  didn't  have  the  strenk. 

"  Ahem  !  a-a-haam  !  And  when  I  got  to  Sam 
Bowers,  he  were  in  the  field  a-ploughin'  of  a  colt 
he  been  breakin' ;  and  it  weren't  more'n  a 
quarter  of  a'  hour  before  Sam  jerked  that  colt 
out  of  the  plough,  slung  the  trace-chains  acrost 
his  shoulders,  lit  on  his  back,  said  thanky  and 
good-by  to  me,  galloped  to  the  house,  shucked 
hisself  out  his  workm'-clothes,  slid  hisself  into 
his  Sunday's,  and  flew  over  to  the  Owenses. 
That  were  what  Sam  Bowers  done,  a-knowin' 
that  well  he  might. 

"And  then  I  rid  back  home.  I  had  been 
a  kind  o'  tryin'  to  fix  up  things  there  a  leetle 
bit,  so  they  wouldn't  look  quite  so  thin  and 
bach'lor-like.  I  got  up  some  new  crock' ry,  and 
some  new  cal'ker  curt'ns,  and  a  bolt  o'  kyar- 
petin'  to  put  down  in  the  big  room ;  and  when 
I  thro  wed  my  eyes  around,  everything,  special 
them  new  things,  looked  so  lonesome  that  I 
went  to  my  bed,  and  I  lay  down  on  it,  and  I 
cried  like  a  child,  that  I  did.  And  it  seem  like 
to  me  I  couldn't  have  stood  it,  exceptin'  for 


38        OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

thinkin'  I  been  doin'  what  it  were  plain  my  juty 
to  do  as  a  honer'ble  man  before  God  A'mighty. 
Because  it  seem  like  to  me,  if  I'd  'a'  took 
Matildy,  it  would  not  be  so  very  diff'ent  from 
the  buy  in'  of  a'  inner  cent  little  lamb  and  a-sack- 
erficin'  of  it ;  and  I  said  to  myself,  <  Jack  Cum 
min,  no,  if  they  have  to  be  a  sackerficin',  let  it 
be  you,  and  not  Matildy ;  let  it  be  the  old,  and 
not  the  young.'  And  when  I  done  that,  I  felt 
better  in  here,  right  in  here." 

And  he  placed  his  hand  softly  on  his  breast. 

"  Well,  well,  time  for  me  to  be  a-leavin' ;  but 
I'll  add  a  few,  jest  only  a  few.  That's  been 
twenty  year  ago  —  yes,  mighty  nigh  twenty-one. 
Sam  and  Matildy  has  done  well,  mighty  well. 
You  know  what  a  respect'ble,  fine,  th'ivin'  man 
Sam  Bowers  is.  They  has  had  five  children, 
and  one  of  'em,  a  mighty  pooty  boy  baby  he 
were,  they  named  arfter  me ;  but,  don't  you 
know,  time  he  got  to  be  a  year  old  or  sech  a 
matter,  poor  little  feller,  he  ketched  the  croup 
and  died,  that  he  did. 

"  And  now,  if  you're  tired,  blame  yourself  for 
askin'  me  sech  a  long  quest'on  ;  and  you  know 
now  how  come  I  to  tell  you  to  put  down  that 
itom  in  my  will,  a-leavin'  o'  five  thousand  dollars 
to  Matildy.  But  that's  to  be  betwix'  me  and 
you  —  leastways  twell  arfter  I'm  gone." 


MR.   PATE'S   ONLY   INFIRMITY 


MR.   PATE'S   ONLY   INFIRMITY 

Yet  hath  my  night  of  life  some  memory,  .  .  . 

My  dull  deaf  ears  a  little  use  to  hear.  —  Comedy  of  Errors. 

OLD  Mr.  Pate,  until  his  late  and  only  infirm 
ity,  was  the  most  even-tempered  man  in  all  our 
neighborhood.  As  well  as  I  can  remember,  no 
body  knew  or  heard  of  his  having  been  thrown 
at  any  time  into  a  rage,  at  least  with  one  of  his 
own  race.  His  resentment  —  what  there  was  in 
it  that  was  at  all  deadly  —  may  have  been 
kindled  momentarily,  now  and  then,  by  a  sheep- 
killing  hound,  a  fence-breaking  steer,  or  some 
sneaking  four-footed  invader  of  his  wife's  hen 
house  ;  but  that  was  all.  Things  might  go 
awry  outside  or  inside  of  his  family,  at  which 
some  people  might  be  tempted  to  use  a  bit  of 
profane  language,  yet,  although  he  could  main 
tain  his  rights  with  sufficient  judicious  firmness, 
he  did  so  with  equal  mildness.  Wrapping  him 
self  in  virtues  known  to  himself,  as  well  as  to 
others,  he  used,  when  hearing  of  a  stormy  pas 
sion  into  which  a  neighbor  had  been  flung,  to 
smile  calmly,  and  comment  upon  the  uselessness, 

41 


42  OLD   TIMES   IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

not  to  call  it  foolishness,  in  a  person  punishing 
his  own  self  for  other  folks's  doings. 

He  habitually  spoke  of  the  Creator  in  terms 
of  much  praise,  and  even  expressed  himself  as 
thankful  for  what,  if  he  had  not  done  it  for  him 
pointedly,  he  had  kindly  allowed  him  to  do  for 
himself.  He  liked  to  see  others  join  the  church, 
and  on  revival  occasions  was  known  sometimes 
gently  to  urge  young  persons  of  both  sexes  to 
heed  calls  for  mourners.  He  might  have  be 
come  a  member  long  ago,  except  that  for  such  a 
thing  in  a  man  like  himself  he  felt  that  there 
was  no  earthly  necessity.  Contemplating  his 
exemplary  deportment,  observed  through  the 
successes  of  seventy  years  and  more,  he  was 
living  in  serene  trust  of  many  more  as  placidly 
felicitous  as  those  now  sitting  lightly  upon  his 
honored  head.  One  of  his  calm  boasts  was  that 
he  had  enjoyed  the  society  of  two  as  good  wives 
as  the  one  wife  of  any  other  man  under  the  sun, 
the  former  up  to  fifty,  at  her  demise  another, 
between  whom  —  except  as  to  a  few  details  of 
no  sort  of  importance,  but  rather  operating  as 
interesting,  pleasant  foils  —  he  could  never  see, 
as  he  expressed  it,  "  one  single  blessed  ioty  of 
diff'ence."  Fond  both  of  the  hearing  and  the 
imparting  of  news,  good,  bad,  and  indifferent, 
he  wished  to  know  as  much  as  was  possible  of 
things  occurring  outside  of  his  own  experience, 


43 

and  it  had  been  a  strong  support  to  what  few 
troubles  he  had  had,  to  note  that  other  people 
had  theirs  also,  and  especially  that  they  made 
more  complainings  than  he  did.  All  of  his 
children  were  now  grown,  married,  and  living 
near  in  peace  and  prosperity. 

Yet  the  prophecy  of  labor  and  sorrow  to  come 
after  three  score  and  ten  !  How  insidious  often, 
yet  always  how  inevitable !  A  slight  cold  taken 
one  day,  like  hundreds  and  hundreds  that  dur 
ing  the  last  sixty  years  he  had  known  how  to 
knock  speedily  into  cocked  hats  with  pepper-tea 
and  hoarhound  candy,  after  yielding  to  those 
efficacious  remedies  at  all  points  save  one,  fas 
tened  upon  that,  and  refused  obstinately  to  go 
away.  This  was  his  left  ear,  and  I  regret  to 
have  to  add  that  his  right,  whether  from  too 
intense  sympathy  with  its  twin  brother,  or  re 
duced  by  continued  loans  extended  to  it,  declined 
in  time  to  like  condition. 

Mr.  Pate,  brave  man  that  he  was,  scornful  of 
trifles,  went  ahead  for  a  while  just  the  same  as 
ever,  ignoring  a  state  of  things  which,  unex 
pected  and  undeserved,  a  man  of  his  energy  and 
resolve  was  bound  to  overcome  in  no  great 
while.  But  one  day  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Betsey 
Runnells,  who  dwelt  a  mile  distant,  came  over 
to  see  them  all,  and,  after  receiving  several 
inaccurate  answers  —  once  or  twice  none  at 


44  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

all  —  to  her  questionings,  was  moved  to  remark 
thus: 

"  Pa,  what  in  this  world  is  getting  to  be  the 
matter  with  you  since  you  had  that  last  cold 
that  you  answer  people's  questions  so  curious, 
and  sometimes  don't  seem  to  know  they've 
asked  you  anything?  It's  either  that  you've 
got  to  paying  mighty  little  attention  to  people 
when  they're  talking  to  you,  or  the  fact  is 
you're  getting  deef.  One  of  the  things  is 
certain  and  no  doubt  about  it." 

"  No  sech  a  thing,  Betsey.  It's  no  sech  a 
thing.  It's  that  you  all  don't  speak  cle'r  and 
distinct  like  you  used  to  do ;  but  you've  all  got 
to  mumblin'  and  chawin'  your  words  to  that 
that  a  body  can't  always  tell  what's  it  you're 
talkin'  about.  I  can  hear  well  as  I  ever  did 
when  people  open  their  mouth,  and  let  their 
words  come  out  cle'r.  The  fau't's  not  in  my 
years.  It's  in  your  all's  mouth,  and  I  wish  you 
all  jest  stop  it,  that  I  do.  Nonsense  !  " 

Now  sharp  words  like  these  were  entirely  out 
of  Mr.  Pate's  habit,  in  his  family  or  elsewhere. 
Devoted  to  him  as  all  were,  thereafter,  when  ad 
dressing  him  particularly,  they  elevated  their 
voices,  sometimes  above  what  was  needful,  and 
then  he  took  offence  of  another  sort. 

"  What  in  this  whole  blessed  and  everlasting 
world  have  got  into  you  all  jest  only  here  lately, 


MR.  PATE'S  ONLY  INFIRMITY  45 

that  when  you  ain't  a-whisperin'  at  me  you 
bawl  out  to  me  the  same  if  the  house  was  afire, 
or  you  made  out  like  you  thought  I'd  done  gone 
stone  deef  ?  I  wish  to  goodness  you  could  all 
be  reason'ble  with  your  woices.  I'm  no  gate 
post." 

Self-delusions,  easiest  of  all  and  sweetest, 
cannot  abide  always,  even  when  nurtured  and 
hugged  with  affection.  The  occasion  of  removal 
in  this  case  seemed  to  Mr.  Pate  particularly 
mournful.  Accustomed  from  youngest  man 
hood  to  waken  from  his  sleep  at  earliest  cock- 
crowing,  at  the  breakfast-table  one  morning,  the 
last  of  several  over-sleepings,  he  said  to  his  wife  : 

"  My  dear,  what's  become  of  all  the  roosters, 
or  what  ails  'em,  that  jest  here  for  a  fortni't  or 
so  they've  quit  crowin'  of  a  mornin'  ?  And  as 
for  the  old  Dorninicker,  I  hain't  even  laid  eyes 
on  him  in  I  don't  know  the  time." 

"  They're  all  here,  Mr.  Pate,  and  nothing's 
the  matter  with  them,  except  the  old  Dominicker ; 
that  I  had  killed  because  he  was  old,  and  the 
young  ones  got  to  running  him  all  over  the  yard, 
and  he's  now  in  the  oven  a-baking  for  dinner. 
The  rest  are  all  right  enough,  far  as  I  know." 

"Eh?     What  did  you  say?" 

She  repeated  the  words  sufficiently  loud. 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  they've 
been  a-crowin'  these  last  few  mornin's?" 


46  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

"Regular." 

"Eh?" 

"Regular!" 

"  You  cert'n  in  your  mind,  Nancy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  SIR  !  "  she  screamed  ;  "  I've  heard  them 
every  morning  of  the  world,  distinct." 

"  My  goodness  !  Then  somethin's  's  obleeged 
to  be  wrong  about  me  som'er's,  like  has  been 
hinted,  and  some  has  gone  to  the  lenkt  to  say 
it  flat  down  in  my  very  face,  and  I  denied 
it,  hopin'  they  were  mistakened.  Ah,  well,  I 
suppose  it  ain't  give  to  any  one  person  to  be 
perfect  and  keep  perfect  always.  But  a  onex- 
pecteder  and  a  pitifuller  case  I'd  sildom  wish  to 
see  any  more  in  nobody." 

The  old  man's  carriage  from  that  time  under 
went  much  change.  His  first  efforts  at  resigna 
tion  were  entirely  praiseworthy,  even  touching, 
he  believed,  notwithstanding  the  feeling  that  it 
would  have  been  more  just,  at  least  more  be 
coming  all  around,  if,  good  man  that  he  was, 
and  known  by  everybody  to  be  a  good  man,  he 
could  have  been  spared,  in  an  old  age  so  green 
and  hearty,  such  a  sorrowful  letting  down.  As 
time  went  on,  it  pained  and  even  began  to  anger 
him  to  suspect  that  others  were  not  as  consid 
erate  of  him  as  he  would  have  been  of  them  in 
mutually  reversed  conditions.  If  he  had  tried 
ever  so  hard  to  keep  silent,  it  would  not  have 


MB.  PATE'S  ONLY  INFIRMITY  47 

been  possible  to  do  so,  and  it  was  some  comfort 
to  him  that,  although  he  could  not  hear,  he  could 
pour  forth  into  other  ears  his  sore  complainings. 
Yet  even  this,  from  certain  causes,  as  will  ap 
pear  presently,  dwindled  somewhat  after  a  while. 

"  HINES'S  "  people  called  it. 

This  was  a  small  country  store  situate  on  the 
public  road  at  the  corner  of  our  grove.  When 
a  lad  of  seven  or  eight,  with  —  sometimes,  if  my 
memory  be  not  treacherous,  without  —  leave  of 
my  parents,  I  went  down  to  this  place,  especially 
on  Saturdays,  in  order  to  see  and  listen  to  the 
men  who  repaired  thither  partly  for  business, 
mainly  to  tell  and  hear  what  news  might  be  in 
the  neighborhood.  Mr.  Pate  seldom  failed  to  be 
there  on  those  days.  I  had  grown  to  be  some 
what  of  an  acknowledged  favorite  with  him ; 
mainly,  I  suspect,  because  I  used  to  listen  re 
spectfully  to  his  talkings,  while  most  of  his  ac 
quaintances  were  beginning  to  avoid  the  garru- 
lousness  which  increased  with  his  years. 

One  day  I  felt  complimented  when  he  invited 
me  to  go  with  him  to  a  bench  under  one  of 
the  great  red-oaks  a  few  rods  from  the  store 
piazza. 

"  Come  along  with  me,  my  son,"  he  said  affec 
tionately.  "  I  want  to  talk  jest  betwixt  me  and 
you  about  things  that  may  be  it  mayn't  do  you 


48  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

any  harm  to  'member  when  you  git  to  be  a  old 
man  like  me.  Come  along." 

When  we  were  seated  on  our  bench,  he  took 
a  rather  mournful,  but  entirely  calm,  survey  of 
the  amphitheatre  above,  and  of  the  level  round 
about,  and  thus  began : 

"Do  you  know,  my  boy,  I  ask  you  solemn 
without  expectin'  a  answer  —  but  do  you  know 
that  I'd  ruther  be  blind  than  deef?  I  don't 
mean  out  and  out  clean  stone  blind,  but  about 
half-way  blind,  like  I'm  now  deef.  You  don't  ? 
Well,  I  would,  and  I'll  tell  you  for  why. " 

Then  he  threw  down  upon  me  a  look  perhaps 
little,  if  any,  below  the  solemnly  magisterial 
gaze  which  Plato  on  occasion  of  one  of  his  most 
melancholy  doubtings  may  be  supposed  to  have 
bestowed  upon  his  disciples  in  the  grove  of  Acade- 
mus,  and  thus  began  : 

"Yes,  sir;  true  as  gospel.  And  it's  because 
people,  as  a  gen'l  thing,  is  good  to  blind  people, 
and  they'll  not  only  git  out  of  their  way,  but 
they'll  actuil  go  out  of  their  own  way  to  help 
'em  to  find  whare  they're  a-movin'  to  git  to. 
And,  sir,  they'll  even  take  holt  of  their  hand, 
and  be  as  proud  as  a  jay-bird  when  they  do  it, 
and  they'll  lead  'em,  same  as  a  baby  jest  learnin' 
to  walk,  to  their  best,  comfortablest  cheer,  a 
hustlin'  out  anybody  else  that's  in  it.  And 
then  they'll  ask  'em  all  about  their  healths, 


MR.  PATE'S  ONLY  INFIRMITY  49 

when  nine  times  out  o'  ten  they  ain't  a-keerin' 
any  more  about  it  than  other  people's.  And 
they'll  talk  soft  to  'em  and  help  'em  to  cut  up 
their  victuals,  and  beg  'em  to  keep  on  takin' 
some  more  when  they  positive  know  that  they've 
already  eat  the  greatest  plenty,  and  has  no 
earthly  need  of  one  single  'nother  mouthful. 
And  not  only  that,  but  they'll  do  a  whole  lot  of 
things  for  'em  to  that  —  well,  jest  betwixt  me 
and  you  and  this  tree  we're  settin'  under,  I  have 
positive  knowed  of  some  o'  that  sort  that  could 
jest  see  to  git  about,  and  a-makin'  out  they 
couldn't  do  that  conven'ent,  that  the  fact  of  the 
whole  business  were,  they  wasn't  any  manner  of 
account  in  the  beginnin',  before  they  got  so,  and 
they  wouldn't  be  if  they  got  over  it.  And,  sir, 
they  were  so  proud  of  bein'  waited  on  in  that 
kind  o'  style,  that  they  wouldn't  give  a  bawbee 
nor  a  continental  red  cent  to  have  their  eyes  put 
back  cle'r,  so  they'd  be  expected  to  go  back  to 
work,  and  be  treated  like  other  people.  Yes, 
sir ;  that's  the  way  blind  people  is  treated. 
But  when  you  come  to  people  that  is  deef  in 
their  year,  —  that  is,  you  mind,  people  that  is 
half-and-half  like  me,  —  people  has  not  only  no 
respects  of  'em,  but  they  has  nothin'  but  contemp', 
and  sometimes,  as  I  know  by  expe'unce,  they 
despise  'em  in  their  very  sight.  Now,  as  for  me, 
I  always  were  a  man  that  like  to  hear  what's 


50        OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

goin'  on,  and  a-knowin'  other  people  was  the 
same,  it's  always  been  my  rule  to  gether  all  I 
could,  and  let  other  people  sheer  in  it,  as  well  as 
the  idees  I  have  on  matters  and  things  in  gen'l, 
and  then  to  give  'em  free  my  advices,  whether 
they  got  the  gumption  to  take  it  or  not,  which 
is  their  lookout,  and  not  mine,  you  understand." 

He  paused  briefly,  as  if  in  respectful  review 
of  a  past  so  signally  benignant,  then  con 
tinued  : 

"But  sence  I've  got  in  the  fix  I'm  in,  in  the 
hearin'  of  my  year,  people  have  got  to  dodgin' 
me,  and  runnin'  away  from  me,  same  as  if  I  had 
the  eech  or  even  the  smallpok,  whensomever  I 
come  where  they  are.  Or  if  they  set  down  to 
swap  a  few  words  with  me,  time  we've  got 
through  with  how  our  families  is,  and  about 
the  weather,  they  git  up,  and  they  shoot  off, 
albe  some  of  them  do  have  the  manners  to  give 
out  that  their  business  is  a-callin'  of  'em  som'er's 
else,  and  they  are  obleeged  to  go  an'  'tend  to  it. 
And  all  that  after  the  life  I've  led,  and  the  use 
ful  it's  always  been  my  aim  to  be,  and  to  do 
accordin'  as  the  good  Lord  let  it  lay  in  my 
power.  Now  don't  sech  as  that  look  like  a  pity 
to  this  generation  of  people  ?  Seem  to  me  like 
it  do." 

He  sniffed  long  and  audibly,  and  did  not  seem 
to  note  the  few  assuring  words  which  I  could 


51 

employ  in  sympathy  with  his  suffering  from 
general  ingratitude.  Indeed,  I  was  almost  sure 
that  he  could  not  have  heard  them,  because 
what  I  said  was : 

"  But,  Mr.  Pate,  everybody  loves  and  respects 
you." 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  with  some  impatience; 
"  that's  what  they  all  tell  me ;  but  I  don't  want 
advices.  I  ain't  a  man  to  need  people's  advices. 
What  I  want  is  for  people  to  talk  to  me  and  to 
listen  to  me.  Don't  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  answered  quickly. 

After  a  moment  he  said : 

"  But,  my  son,  it's  things  in  my  own  family 
that  hurts  me  the  worst.  If  people  outside 
think  they  can  do  without  my  opinion  and 
without  my  advices  in  their  business  and  their 
matters  and  things  in  gen'l,  why,  that's  their 
perfect  right,  and  I'm  not  a  denyin'  of  it ;  but 
when  it  come  to  my  own  folks,  there's  where 
the  shoe  pinch.  As  to  what  my  people  has  been 
to  me,  the  good  Lord  know  I  can't  complain, 
nor  I  don't.  I've  had  two  as  good  wives  as 
the  sun  ever  ris  or  sot  on.  My  first  one  were 
before  your  day;  but  people  that's  old  enough 
'members  what  a  high,  splendid  women  she 
were ;  and  my  second,  well,  everybody  sees  how 
if  she's  low  in  heighth,  she's  bunchy,  and  she 
make  up  for  stren'th  by  bein'  active.  As  for 


52  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

my  childern,  if  I  say  it  myself  that  maybe 
oughtn't,  they've  been  raised  to  be  as  rea- 
son'ble  good  and  respectable  childern  as  the 
common  run  of  anybody  else's  childern  in  this 
whole  neighborhood  of  people,  accordin'  to  — 
yes,  I  may  say  accordin'  to  the  —  to  the  society 
we  live  in  at  the  present  time,  you  —  you  un 
derstand  —  ahem." 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  tried  to  interpolate;  "every 
body  says  that  your  children  —  " 

"  But,"  ignoring  my  attempt,  he  went  on, 
"what  hurts  me  to  the  very  bone  sometimes 
is  the  disrespects  that's  putt  on  me  in  my  own 
family,  the  not  expectedest  of  all.  Why,  sir,  I 
used  to  be  lively  at  home,  and  keen  as  a  brier 
to  make  things  interestin*  about  the  house ;  and 
now  it  look  like  I  ain't  so  mighty  much  more 
than  our  old  Dominicker  rooster,  that  the  young 
ones  got  to  runnin'  over  him,  and  stopped  all 
his  usefulness;  and  so  they  put  him  up  in  the 
coop,  and  they  fattened  him,  and  then  they 
killed  him,  and  they  baked  him,  and  'tweren't 
he  were  so  fat,  and  cooked  so  brown,  stuffin' 
and  all,  and  gravy  accordin',  I  couldn't  of  teched 
him.  And  I  actuil  felt  solemn  when  I  were 
a-eatin'  one  o'  his  drumsticks,  and  a  slice  or 
two  of  his  breast,  and  some  pickings  on  his  side- 
bone  ;  I  tell  you,  I  felt  positive  solemn  to  think 
what  everything  have  to  come  to  in  the  course  o' 


MR.  PATE'S  ONLY  INFIRMITY  53 

time,  more  or  less  ;  that  the  poor  old  fellow 
used  to  wake  me  up  every  mornin'  at  the  crack 
o'  day  with  his  crowin' ;  and  it's  got  to  that  I 
can't  hear  a  single  rooster  on  the  place,  and 
I  hain't  the  words  to  tell  how  my  feelin's  in 
side  o'  me  was  hurted  when  I  found  it  out." 

He  put  his  handkerchief  momentarily  to  his 
eyes,  as  if  to  warn  back  any  weak  tear  that 
might  feel  itself  impelled  to  the  front,  and  then 
continued : 

"  But  the  thing  is,  my  son,  that  I'm  a  begin- 
nin'  to  suspicion  'em  o'  dodgin'  me  in  my  own 
house,  like  they  do  everywhere  else,  and  that  it 
make  'em  tired,  and  sometimes  it  even  fret  'em, 
to  have  to  talk  to  me.  And  then  I  git  fretted 
too,  after  all  I've  been  to  'em.  And  it's  got  so 
I  try  my  level  best  to  not  want  to  know  about 
things  like  I  used  to  do.  Yit,  when  I  see  them 
a-workin'  o'  their  mouth  in  a  way  that  make  me 
certain  in  my  mind  somethin'  interestin'  is  up, 
I  can't  help,  to  save  my  life  —  I  can't  help  from 
wantin'  to  know  what  it's  about.  And  then  one 
of  'em  comes  and  bawls  it  in  my  year,  frecwent 
it's  not  worth  talkin'  about,  and  then  I  suspi 
cion  'em  of  foolin'  me  by  a-tellin'  me  the  poor 
est,  insignificantest  part,  and  a-holdin'  back  the 
rest.  Then,  'casionally  the  idee  takes  holt  on 
me  that  they're  a-talkin'  about  me,  and  a-sayin' 
they  wish  I  weren't  so  troublesome,  and  all 


54  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

that,  and  it  sting  me  mighty  nigh  the  same  like 
anybody  was  to  run  a  pin  in  me." 

After  another  pause,  turning  his  face  all  about, 
as  if  to  be  sure  that  none  other  were  in  hearing, 
with  a  look  of  grave  apprehension,  almost  of 
alarm,  in  lower  tones  he  said  : 

"  And,  sir,  don't  you  know,  sir,  that  the  sus- 
picionin'  o'  them  in  that  kind  o'  style  have  got 
so  it  have  begun  to  make  me  ruther  deceitful 
myself  ?  It  jest  skeers  me  to  think  about  it. 
You  mustn't  let  on  I  told  you  so.  I  was  posi 
tive  obleeged  to  tell  somebody,  it  lay  so  heavy 
on  my  mind,  and  I  tell  it  to  you  because  you're 
always  good,  respectable  to  me,  and  you  never 
dodges  me,  nor  runs  away  from  me  when  I'm 
a-talkin'  to  you.  Fact,  sir,  sometimes  when  my 
years  ain't  quite  as  cloudy  as  common,  special 
when  the  a'r  is  on  my  side,  I  can  gether  what 
they're  sayin',  and  they  don't  know  it.  But  I 
jest  know  I've  got  not  to  let  on,  to  keep  'em 
from  suspicionin'  me  of  makin'  out  I'm  worse 
off  than  what  I  actuil  am.  Now,  ain't  sech  as 
that  a  pity  for  a  man  of  my  cha-rec-ter,  that's 
if  they  is  anything  I  ever  did  hate,  it  was  de 
ceitful,  and  special  when  I  caught  people  a-tryin' 
to  put  it  on  me,  and  make  a  fool  of  me  f  I  jest 
declare,  I  git  so  sorry  for  myself  sometimes 
a-thinkin'  about  it,  that  I  can  but  hope  the  thing 
will  let  up  on  me  after  a  while,  so  I  can  git 


MK.  PATE'S  ONLY  INFIRMITY  55 

back  to  the  usefulness  I  had  before  I  got  in  this 
fix." 

At  this  juncture,  one  of  the  neighbor s,  who 
had  just  arrived,  after  alighting,  and  fastening 
his  horse  at  one  of  the  racks,  approached,  in 
order  to  pay  his  respects.  Mr.  Pate,  after  a 
look  of  incipient  resentment  toward  the  comer, 
turned  to  me,  and  in  low,  hurried  tones  said  : 

"  There,  now,  my  son,  that'll  do  ;  you  can  go 
now ;  but  don't  you  let  on  what  I  told  you." 

To  his  injunction  of  silence  regarding  his  con 
fession  I  paid  what  respect  was  possible,  limit 
ing  disclosure  to  my  parents  and  a  few  other 
intimate  acquaintances,  with  prudent  admoni 
tions  that  it  should  not  go  much  further.  After 
observations  through  many  years  among  the 
aged,  to  say  nothing  of  even  more  reliable 
sources,  I  seem  to  recall,  what  I  was  then  too 
young  to  discern  in  my  old  friend's  droll  words, 
some  real  pathos,  and  if  not  some  wisdom,  a 
pathetic  simulation  of  wisdom  in  thus  essaying 
to  defend  himself  against  wrongs  real  and  im 
aginary  ;  and  so  his  case,  feeling  at  this  late 
day  I  may  be  held  excusable,  I  now,  for  the  first 
time,  make  public. 


SHADOWY  FOES 


SHADOWY  FOES 


EVERYBODY  thought  so  much  of  her  that  she 
was  always  called  by  her  Christian  name,  which 
was  Penninah,  though  commonly  abbreviated  to 
P'nniny.  Old  people  and  familiars  said  P'nniny, 
just  so ;  others  said  Miss  or  Missis  P'nniny, 
according  to  relations  and  circumstances.  Many 
and  many  a  time  have  I  heard  old  people  say 
that  from  the  time  she  first  grew  up,  in  the 
more  than  one  interesting  relation  into  which 
she  had  been  put  by  destiny,  if  anybody  ever 
had  a  better  neighbor,  all  they  cared  to  ask 
would  be  what  that  neighbor's  name  was,  and 
where  he  or  she  lived,  as  the  case  might  be. 
Her  reputation  as  a  visitor  of  both  well  and  sick 
in  the  day,  as  a  sitter-up  with  the  latter  at  night, 
as  a  layer-out  of  the  dead,  as  a  consoler  of  weep 
ing  survivors,  as  a  thoughtful  suggester  about 
the  paling  in  of  graves,  and  the  planting  around 
them  of  shrubs  and  things,  was  of  the  very  best. 
On  occasions  not  so  lugubrious  —  for  instance, 
as  a  complimentary  eater  of  good  dinners  at 

59 


60  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

other  people's  houses,  and  as  a  bountiful  giver 
of  them  at  her  own  —  she  was  unexceptionable. 
Now  that  is  as  nigh  as  I  can  honestly  state  her 
standing  in  our  neighborhood. 

When  I  had  grown  old  enough  to  begin  to 
notice  with  interest  things  outside  of  my  own 
domestic  circle,  she  (whose  dwelling  was  about 
a  mile  to  the  south  of  Hines's  store)  was  living 
in  calm  enjoyment  of  her  second  widowhood. 
Young  as  I  was,  I  could  not  but  remark  the 
happy  geniality  that  was  exuberant  in  all  her 
walk  and  conversation.  It  was  the  more  sur 
prising  to  me,  therefore,  when  I  learned  that 
during  the  period  extending  throughout  her 
married  life  —  or,  as  I  might  more  justly  say, 
throughout  both  her  married  lives  —  she  had 
indulged  in  two  hostilities  which  at  times  in 
flicted  upon  her  own  feelings  pain  intensely 
exasperating.  Honest  woman  that  she  was,  she 
shrank  not  from  admitting  frankly  that  neither 
of  the  persons  who  had  become  the  objects  of 
her  repugnance  had  ever  perpetrated  —  in  all 
human  probability  had  never  meditated  —  injury 
of  any  sort  upon  her  rights  or  feelings.  That 
made  no  difference :  the  animosity  was  in  her 
breast,  and  there  it  stayed  during  two  joint  lives. 

As  for  these  persons,  both  of  her  own  sex, 
neither  had  so  much  as  dreamed  of  hurting 
either  her  or  anybody  or  anything  belonging  or 


SHADOWY  FOES  61 

appertaining  to  her.  Yet  it  was  really  stirring 
to  note  how  this  lady,  in  all  respects  so  excellent, 
and  indeed  so  happy  during  the  greater  part  of 
the  time,  would  occasionally  pour  forth  abusive 
tirades,  threatening,  if  they  ever  should  perpe 
trate  the  atrocity  she  dreaded,  what  she  would 
do  in  case  she  should  be  allowed  to  get  at  them. 

The  names  of  those  enemies  I  cannot,  any 
more  than  you  can,  call,  inasmuch  as  they  were 
never  handed  in  to  the  clerk  of  the  Court  of 
Ordinary,  wherein  applications  of  such  ladies, 
or  of  gentlemen  in  their  behalf,  according  to  the 
statute  in  such  cases  made  and  provided,  were 
usually  filed.  Inasmuch  as  they  had  not  lived 
up  to  the  time  when  I  began  to  know  her  un 
hurt  by  foes  seen  and  unseen,  she  had  survived 
apprehension  of  their  assaults,  and  was  then,  as  I 
said  in  the  beginning,  as  good  a  neighbor  as  any 
body  ever  had,  or  ought  ever  to  wish  to  have. 

At  the  period  of  her  introduction  in  this  brief 
tale,  if  she  was  a  day  over  forty,  she  would  have 
thanked  nobody  for  saying  so.  Her  full  name, 
before  time  had  wrought  its  changes  upon  it, 
was  Penninah  Daniel,  the  baptismal  prenomen 
being  derived  from  that  of  the  fruitful  wife  of 
Elkanah  the  Ephrathite,  with  the  careers  of 
whom  and  whose  family  Bible-readers  are  more 
or  less  familiar. 

Now  the  name  Penninah,  "as   olde  bookes 


62  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

maken  memorie,"  signifies  a  precious  stone ; 
and  notwithstanding  the  infirmities  herein  told, 
it  is  to  be  questioned  if  very  many  times  it  had 
been  bestowed  more  worthily  than  in  this  in 
stance.  Not  as  pretty  as  some,  but  well  shaped, 
industrious,  vivacious,  one  of  two  daughters  of 
a  father  who  owned  a  fair  tract  of  land  and  a 
good  bunch  of  negroes,  she  was  bound  to  have 
beaus ;  and  she  had  them.  From  fifteen  to 
seventeen  she  ruminated  over  the  several  offers 
made  to  her,  and  then  took  that  of  Jeff  Lockett ; 
and  everybody  said  it  was  a  good  match  for 
both.  What  is  not  always  the  case  in  such  ties, 
the  longer  she  lived  with  Jeff,  the  deeper  she 
fell  in  love  with  him.  If  any  person  wanted  to 
please  her  specially,  and  add  to  her  pride  at  the 
birth  of  any  of  her  children,  it  was  to  say  that 
the  baby  when  first  exposed  to  view,  was  Jeff's 
picture  over  and  over  again,  from  the  incipient 
curl  on  the  summit  of  his  head  to  the  crook  of 
his  little  finger.  Such  she  was  when  there 
began  to  arise  an  apparition  that  disturbed  the 
otherwise  uninterrupted  felicity  of  her  existence. 


ii 

As  for  Jeff  Lockett,  he  did  not  wilfully  in 
dulge  in  vanities  of  any  sort.  If  his  children 
were  thought  like  him,  who  knew  without  any- 


SHADOWY  FOES  63 

body's  telling  him  that  he  was  no  paragon,  well 
enough.  If  that  idea  pleased  his  wife,  also  well 
enough.  He  admitted  having  some  of  the  hard- 
headedness  of  which  his  wife  playfully  accused 
him  sometimes,  and  he  accepted  her  exuberant 
devotion  just  as  if  he  knew  he  deserved  every 
bit  of  it.  The  hard-headedness  before  hinted  at 
made  itself  most  apparent  when,  after  two  of 
his  facsimiles  had  been  born  in  fast  succession, 
demands  were  made  upon  him  to  promise  what 
he  would  do,  or  rather  what  he  would  not  do,  in 
a  certain  contingency  possible  to  occur.  This 
contingency  was  his  wife's  death.  With  the 
thought  of  dying  young,  Jeff  being  young  also, 
came  that  of  another  having  him  for  a  husband, 
and  neither  of  them  caring  a  bawbee  for  her 
grave,  and  seldom  giving  even  a  piece  of  mem 
ory  to  the  one  occupying  it.  This  was  more, 
she  felt  in  her  heart,  than  she  ought  to  be  called 
upon  to  bear  after  all  her  devotion  to  Jeff,  and 
what  she  had  gone  through  cheerfully  on  his 
account.  Foreseeing  that  marriageable  women 
of  all  descriptions,  no  sooner  than  the  breath 
was  out  of  her  body,  would  be  laying  snares  for 
Jeff,  knowing  what  a  glorious  husband  he  was, 
she  began  to  regard  them  as  enemies  to  conquer 
whom  the  only  chance  lay  in  beginning  the 
attack  herself.  Yet,  like  other  and  more  noted 
diplomats,  she  began  with  discussion,  and  sought 


64  OLD   TIMES   IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

to  elicit  from  Jeff  a  promise  that  in  the  event 
of  her  death  he  would  not  take  another  wife. 
Now  right  there  came  in  that  infirmity  of  Jeff! 
which  it  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  name  for 
the  third  time.  Jeff  positively  refused  to  make 
any  such  promise,  saying  that  it  was  all  nothing 
but  foolishness.  Whereupon  Mrs.  Penniny  con 
ceived  for  her  possible  successor  a  hostility  of 
which  no  existing  women  would  have  liked  to 
be  the  object. 

Old  Mr.  Pate,  who,  from  what  he  believed  the 
best  sort  of  motives,  used  to  find  out  everything 
possible  about  everybody  and  everybody's  busi 
ness  in  the  neighborhood,  became  much  inter 
ested  in  this  case.  I  remember  hearing  him  say 
one  day : 

"  I  have  knewed  consider'ble  wimming  in  my 
time,  but  nare  one  as  vi'lent  as  P'nniny  Lockett 
ag'in'  the  one  she  supposen  Jeff  might  take  for 
a  wife  in  the  ewent  she  drap  off,  of  which  she 
were  as  healthy  a  person  as  went,  and  look  like 
they  was  positive  no  needcessity  to  be  pesterin' 
her  mind  about  sech  a'  onexpected  thing  for  at 
least  a  many  a  year  yit  awhile.  The  thing  is, 
she  was  took  up  with  Jeff  to  that  she  couldn't 
b'ar  the  thought  of  him  havin'  of  another  wife ; 
and  it  cut  her  to  the  very  marrer  of  the  bone,  she 
say,  because  Jeff  wouldn't  make  her  any  promise 
to  the  contrairey ;  and  I  have  heerd  her  ac- 


SHADOWY  FOES  65 

knowlege  that  the  way  she  did  hate  that  second 
wife  o'  Jeff  were  a  sin,  but  which  she  couldn't 
help  it  because  it  were  in  her  heart  and  were 
there  to  stay ;  at  which  Jeff  laugh,  Jeff  did." 

One  day  Penniny  fell  sick,  and  grew  worse 
and  worse,  so  that  after  about  a  week  all  her 
friends,  including  the  doctor,  gave  her  up  to 
die.  Moved  by  solemn  duty,  a  pious  aunt  in 
formed  her  of  her  extreme  danger,  and  sug 
gested  that,  in  view  of  the  approaching  change, 
she  should  make  what  preparation  she  regarded 
necessary. 

Too  weak  to  be  greatly  shocked  by  the  an 
nouncement,  she  only  sighed  and  whispered  that 
on  her  mind  were  a  few  things  she  wished  to 
say  to  Jeff,  and  in  the  hearing  of  all  at  her  bed 
side.  Jeff,  poor  fellow,  was  nigh  distracted  with 
grief ;  yet  he  had  strength  to  approach,  lean  his 
head,  and  listen  to  her  dying  words,  which  were 
an  appeal  for  a  promise  to  her,  in  the  presence 
of  all  there,  that  he  would  never  put  a  step 
mother  over  her  children.  That  scene  Mr.  Pate, 
better  than  I,  can  describe. 

"  I  was  there,  and  heerd  it  all,  a-wantin'  to 
see  the  last  o'  poor  P'nniny,  as  I  thought  she 
were  mighty  nigh  gone,  and  give  my  advices 
about  things  in  gen'l.  The  thing  took  Jeff  so 
suddent  that  he  was  speechless,  exceptin'  to  cry 
louder  and  declare  that  the  takin'  of  another 


66  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

wife  have  never  been  on  top  o'  his  mind,  and  he 
begged  P'nniny  to  please  not  to  name  sech  a' 
idee  to  him  any  more.  But  P'nniny  kep'  at 
him,  and  Jeff  kep'  at  her  to  spar'  him  the 
mis'ry ;  and  that  is  every  bit  she  could  git  out 
o'  Jeff,  till  final  she  got  mad,  and  she  fetched  a 
flirt,  she  did,  and  as  she  fetched  it,  she  fa'rly 
sung  out,  '  Well,  thank  the  good  Lord,  I  ain't 
dead  yit !  '  And  she  turned  herself  over,  and 
she  faced  herself  to  the  wall,  and  from  that 
minute  she  begun  to  git  better,  and  'tweren't 
more'n  two  days  before  she  could  set  up  in  bed, 
and  wash  her  face,  and  comb  her  ha'r,  and  in  a 
week's  time  she  was  goin'  about  the  house  and 
tendin'  to  her  business  same  like  before  she 
taken  down.  Doctor  Lewis  said  it  were  jes 
what  she  needed,  to  git  mad  and  make  a'  effort ; 
and  he  say  if  Jeff  have  had  promised  her  as  she 
wanted,  she'd  been  a  dead  'oman  in  less'n 
twenty-four  hours.  And  so  the  very  next  year 
poor  Jeff  he  took  sick,  and  doctor's  physic  nor 
nothin'  else  could  hender  him  a-goin'  out  for 
good.  It  seem  mighty  nigh  killin'  of  P'nniny 
to  see  him  go ;  but  he  never  asked  for  no  prom 
ise,  and  well  he  didn't,  because  everybody  know 
what  followed  in  jue  time." 


SHADOWY  FOES  67 

III 

So  that  first  enemy  was  forgiven  freely,  and 
not  another  word  against  her  was  ever  heard  to 
come  out  of  Penniny's  mouth,  although  in  Mr. 
Pate's  opinion  not  very  many  a  cow  with  a 
crumpled  horn  ever  looked  more  forlorn  than 
she  did  now.  Time  and  time  again  she  declared 
that  she  never  would  get  over  it.  Yet  when,  in 
the  following  year,  Billy  GunnelTs  wife  died, 
leaving  two  poor  little  motherless  children,  she 
couldn't  keep,  to  save  her  life,  from  being  sorry 
for  them,  and  thankful  they  were  too  young  to 
feel  the  full  extent  of  their  loss.  Remembering 
how  Billy  had  sympathized  in  her  and  her 
orphans'  griefs,  what  time  they  were  freshest 
and  sorest,  common  gratitude  drove  her  to  feel 
sorry  for  Billy  also.  I  need  not  say  what  was 
the  final  outcome  of  such  mutualities.  With 
Billy  she  fell  in  love,  the  same  as  with  Jeff,  and 
when  the  first  Gunnell  baby  was  born,  that 
other  woman  had,  it  seemed,  no  other  business 
to  do  but  to  rise,  and  cast  her  malignant  shadow 
upon  a  path  that  otherwise  would  have  been  in 
renewed  continuous  sunshine. 

"I  jest  can't  help  it,"  often  she  pleaded;  "I 
love  my  children,  both  sets  of  'em,  so  much,  and 
I  love  Billy  the  same,  that  it  makes  me  perfect 
miser' ble  to  think  of  another  woman  coming  in 


68  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

to  hector  over  things  in  this  house,  and  me  in 
the  ground,  and  not  able  even  to  turn  over 
in  my  grave,  much  less  get  out  and  reg'late  such 
things  in  general.  Oh,  you  may  laugh ;  but  it's 
so.  I  actual  hate  that  woman,  sinful  if  it  may 
be,  and  I  acknowledge  that  I  wouldn't  make 
any  strenious  objections  to  the  bad  man  getting 
possessions  of  her  when  her  time  comes,  if  not 
before.  Everybody  know  I  were  the  same  in 
Jeff's  lifetime,  and  Doctor  Lewis  said  it  were  the 
thought  of  it  kept  me  from  dying  that  time  I 
come  so  nigh  a-doing  of  it.  When  Jeff  died,  that 
he  was  the  very  best  husband  any  woman  in  this 
world  ever  did  have  —  of  course,  excepting  of 
Billy,  that  at  present  occepy  his  place  total  unex 
pected  —  ~but  at  which  then  time,  every  heart  I 
had  in  my  breast  was  that  broke  that  I  had  no 
more  idees  of  getting  married  again  than  I  had 
of  splunging  head  foremost  into  the  very  bottom 
o'  Rudisill's  mill-pond,  where  the  water  is  knew 
to  be  the  deepest,  solemn  as  such  a  thing  would 
have  been  to  people  who  knoweth  not  and  can 
not  understandeth  how  they  might  be  for  their 
own  selves  in  similar  case.  Why,  if  any  man, 
be  he  the  finest  and  richest  man  that  ever 
walked  on  two  legs,  had  he  have  daresn't  to 
even  name  such  a  thing  to  me,  if  I  couldn't 
have  got  him  out  the  house  no  other  way,  I 
would  have  positive  called  up  the  hounds,  sot 


SHADOWY  FOES  69 

them  on  him,  and  sent  him  scooting  back  to  his 
home,  wheresomever  it  might  be.  That  is  me, 
or  rather  I  might  say  it  ivere  me,  the  day  poor 
Jeff  let  loose  his  holt  on  me  and  the  children, 
and,  as  old  Brer  Sanford  expressed  it,  feeling 
and  mod'rate  and  comfo'ting,  was  gethered  to 
his  fathers ;  and  for  months  on  months  after 
ward,  until  a  perfect  awful  event  happened  in 
the  drapping  off  of  poor,  dear  Sally  Gunnell, 
and  the  leaving  of  me  exposed  to  have  feelings 
of  entire  different  sort,  they  is  no  telling  what 
might  happened,  that  I  was  thankful  Jeff  never 
asked  me  for  a  promise  of  no  sort,  but  said  with 
his  dying  breath  he  had  no  doubts  I'd  try  to  do 
the  best  I  knewed  how.  And  so,  when  I  saw 
the  orphan  and  awful  condition  poor  Sally  Gun 
nell  left  her  little  children,  and  when  Billy 
began  to  pessecute  and  pessecute  me  to  help  take 
keer  of  'em,  some  women  might  have  stood  it 
and  helt  out,  but  not  me.  But  —  and  yit  it  is 
now  different ;  a-supposing  and  a-acknowledging 
me  have  been  wrong  in  the  first  instant.  Be 
cause  Billy  have  had  two  wives  already,  and  me 
two  husbands,  which  my  own  private  opinion 
always  have  been,  that's  as  many  as  the  good 
Lord  ever  want  any  woman  to  have,  that  I  have 
been  good  as  I  knewed  how  to  Sally's  children, 
and  Billy  the  perfect  same  to  Jeff's  children; 
but  I  has  not  the  confidence  to  believe  likewise 


70  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

of  any  other  woman  under  the  broad  sun  in  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  as  it  now  stand,  or 
would  stand  when  I  die.  But  yit,  when  I  ask 
Billy  to  promise  me,  he  will  do  nothing  of  the 
kind,  but  say  it  is  all  nonsense  and  foolishness  ; 
and  it  put  me  on  thorns,  jest  like  it  did  before, 
against  the  woman  that  is  to  bang  my  and  poor 
Sally's  children  about,  and  tromple  over  my  and 
her  grave.  People  needn't  to  talk  to  me  ;  I  jest 
can't  help  being  mad  when  I  think  about  it,  and 
that's  a  most  of  the  time  when  I'm  awake  and 
not  at  my  work  or  my  victuals." 

No  ;  Billy  Gunnell  would  make  no  such  prom 
ise,  even  at  times  when  his  wife  lay  sick.  We 
shall  see  what  he  got  by  it. 


IV 

MR.  PATE  being  more  familiar  with  the  facts 
of  the  case  than  I  am,  I  shall  let  him  talk 
again. 

"  If  P'nniny  Gunnell  weren't  one  of  'em,  I 
don't  know  any  as  was.  Ev'rybody  'member 
how  bad  she  hated  that  unfort'nate  female  she 
suspicioned  Jeff  o'  marryin'  in  ewent  she  went 
first,  and  then  how  her  bristles  riz  the  same  ag'in' 
Billy's  third  wife.  It  did  seem  to  me  like  them 
wimming,  if  nothing  but  sperrits  though  they 
be,  and  not  even  that,  but  they  actual  kep'  her 


SHADOWY   FOES  71 

alive  in  both  them  hard  spells  she  had  endurin' 
first  Jeff  and  then  Billy's  time.  For  she  were 
always  a  resky  person  about  expogin'  herself  to 
sickness,  wisitin'  everybody  in  the  neighbor 
hood  that  had  it,  special'  poor  people,  helpin' 
about  everything,  down  to  the  very  last  in  the 
graveyard,  and  havin'  nothin'  ag'in'  anybody  in 
the  wide  world  exceptin'  them  aforesaid  females. 
And  now  she  were  widder  ag'in,  and  been  wid- 
der  long  enough  for  another  weddin',  'tweren't 
she  were  that  oppoged  to  the  very  idee  of  sech  a 
thing,  that  she  declar'  she  mean  to  dewote  her 
time  to  the  raisin'  o'  her  children  and  Sally  Gun- 
nell's  children  the  best  she  know  how,  with  the 
good  Lord's  he'p,  and  doin'  what  little  good  it 
lay  in  her  power  to  do  outside  among  her  neigh 
bors,  as  ev'ybody  acknowledge  in  that  they  ain't 
her  ekal.  It  look  strange  to  me  how  come  a 
ruther  smallish  female  have  buried  two  big, 
strong,  young  husbands,  and  to  all  appearance 
because  on  her  dyin'  beds  they  wouldn't  promise 
her  like  she  wanted,  and  jedgment  come  on  'em, 
both  a-layin'  silent  side  by  side  there  the  back  o' 
the  gyarden  where  she  planted  'em.  And  I  have 
give'  my  advices  to  Harry  Brister  and  Sammy 
Pounds,  that  both  of  them  val'able  young  men 
been  layin'  for  her  ever  sence  not  so  very  long 
arfter  Billy  Gunnell  went,  and  was  now  open  and 
aboveboard  a-tryin'  to  over-persuade  her,  as  both 


72        OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

of  'em  well  might,  considerin'  what  a  fine  ketch 
she  were,  and  picked  up  powerful  sence  she  been 
a  widder,  like  most  of  'em  tries  to  do,  and  does ; 
that  my  advices  to  them  boys  was,  the  first  / 
should  lay  before  P'nniny,  if  it  was  me,  I  should 
promise  P'nniny,  at  the  very  offstart,  that  in  the 
ewent  of  her  a-goin'  before  me  I  should  never 
even  think  about  takin'  of  another  companion. 
And  then,  if  the  time  come  a'gin  and  onexpected, 
to  leave  it  to  the  good  Lord  to  git  me  out  o' 
standin'  up  to  sech  a  foolish  promise.  As  they 
both  done  it,  but  no  use.  Oh  !  she  were  one  of 
'em,  Penninah  were." 

"  No ;  not  Harry  Brister,  or  Sammy  Pounds, 
or  any  other  one  of  I  could  not  say  how  many 
other  widowers  and  bachelors  that  lay  siege  to 
her  gates,  could  ever  take  them.  To  all  offers, 
backed  by  whatever  promises  and  oaths,  she 
smiled  calmly,  answering : 

"No:  the  sheer  I've  had  of  marrying  is  as 
much  as  any  one  woman  ought  reasonable  to 
wish  for  in  a  vale  where,  as  the  Scriptur'  say, 
there's  so  many  tears.  I  have  had  a  very  much 
happiness  with  two  husbands  as  good,  to  my 
opinions,  as  any  that  went ;  and  I  do  not  think 
I  ought  to  take  the  resk  another  and  a  third 
time,  and  have  my  feelings  all  worked  up  in 
anxiety  about  stepmothers  to  my  children  and 
Sally  Gunnell's  the  same,  that  as  for  them  I've 


SHADOWY  FOES  73 

tried  to  do  a  good  part.  I  acknowledge  such 
anxiety  was  vain  and  foolish,  as  both  my  hus 
bands  frequent  said,  that  they  both  went  before, 
and  I  have  tended  both  their  graves  as  the  good 
Lord  give  me  strength  and  light.  As  for  them 
two  women  that  I  hated  with  every  bit  of  heart 
was  in  me,  a-not withstanding  they  was  nothing 
but  idle  tales  in  my  own  mind,  I  hope  the  good 
Lord  will  not  seemeth  him  meet  to  let  'em  rise 
up  in  judgment  against  me  not  expected ;  but 
my  mind  is  made  up  final  that  never — no,  never 
—  will  I  take  the  resk  of  another  of  'em." 


THEIR  COUSIN   LETHY 


THEIR  COUSIN  LETHY 

IT  seemed  to  me,  child  as  I  was,  rather  pitiful 
that,  as  Mr.  Pate  grew  harder  of  hearing,  and 
older,  people,  although  never  meaning  to  be 
offensive  or  impolite,  kept  themselves  as  much 
apart  from  his  society  as  was  possible  to  respect 
ful  friendly  relations.  This  was  on  account  of 
his  increased  garrulousness,  and  his  frequent 
complainings  of  the  little  attention  paid  to  his 
words,  sometimes  narrative,  as  often  admonitory. 
A  harmless  egotist,  honestly  believing  himself  to 
be  a  very  charitable  and  therefore  a  very  useful 
gossip,  his  habit  was,  before  his  deafness  came 
on,  to  find  out,  as  a  matter  of  simple  neighborly 
duty,  every  possible  thing  about  current  neigh 
borhood  existence,  and  then,  without  ever  dream 
ing  of  charging  anything  for  it,  to  offer  his 
counsel  for  its  disposal  or  utilization.  This 
counsel  some  might,  others  might  not,  accept. 
He  was  a  man  too  well  poised  to  be  fretted  by 
neglect  of  taking  help  gratuitously  extended  by 
one  to  whom  so  much  wisdom  had  been  imparted 
by  Heaven,  being  accustomed  at  all  times  to 

77 


78  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

reflect  in  entire  calmness  that  his  mission  was 
only  the  giving  of  counsel,  not  the  enforcing  its 
adoption.  The  intimacy  between  him  and  me, 
notwithstanding  the  difference  of  more  than 
threescore  years  in  our  ages,  became  only  the 
closer  as  adult  listeners  who  avoided  his  society 
increased  in  numbers.  Somehow  I  became  much 
interested  in  what  he  had  to  say,  especially 
regarding  things  happening  before  my  day. 
Not  without  some  spirit  of  romance  in  his  being, 
he  told  me  several  of  his  recollections  in  that 
line  which  sometimes  I  rather  like  to  recall. 
These  fond  recurrings  of  old  men  to  their  young 
times  seem  to  me  of  the  dearest  among  the 
Almighty's  tendernesses  to  second  childhood  in 
human  existence. 

One  afternoon,  when  he  and  I  had  become 
the  only  sitters  on  one  of  the  benches  hard  by 
the  store,  he  said : 

"  Did  I  ever  tell  you  about  the  run  of  Ephom 
Garrett  and  'Lige  Strouder  for  their  cousin 
Lethy  ?  " 

Indeed  I  had  heard  the  story  more  than  once ; 
but  willing  for  him  to  enjoy  another  telling,  I 
looked  inquiringly. 

To  bring  the  story  within  reasonable  limits,  I 
must  abbreviate  within  my  own  some  of  my 
narrator's  many  words. 

The  Garretts  lived  a  mile  from  one  end  of  the 


THEIR   COUSIN  LETHY  79 

village,  and  the  Strouders  about  equidistant  from 
the  other.  The  Griddles  occupied  a  nice  two- 
story  house  in  the  middle,  near  the  store  of 
Bland  &  Jones.  Nearly  opposite,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  street,  in  a  somewhat  nicer  two-story, 
dwelt  the  Robys,  with  whom  boarded  Mrs. 
Eoby's  brother,  Curry  Lightner.  Mrs.  Griddle 
was  sister  to  Mr.  Garrett,  and  Mr.  Griddle 
brother  to  Mrs.  Strouder.  That  is,  they  used  to 
be  before  the  heads  of  the  three  families  had 
died.  This  of  course  made  Ephraim  Garrett 
and  Elijah  Strouder,  although  of  no  kin  to  each 
other,  cousins  to  Lethy  Griddle,  of  whom  some 
people,  admitting  that  this  was  saying  a  great 
deal,  maintained  that  she  was  the  head  of  all 
the  pretty  girls  that  went  to  Mr.  Hodge's  school. 
Fond  of  both  of  these  cousins,  who  were  some 
five  years  older  than  she,  Lethy  often  tried  to 
reconcile  their  differences,  which,  beginning 
early,  continued  late.  And  well  she  might, 
because  but  for  her  those  boys  might  have  been 
as  friendly  with  each  other  as  any  other  couple 
not  similarly  exposed  to  estrangement. 

"  The  de-ficulty  was,"  as  briefly  put  by  Mr. 
Pate,  "  they  was  two  of  them,  and  they  weren't 
but  one  of  Lethy,  which  my  expe'unce  is  that 
always  make  a  deiFence  in  sech  a  case." 

Truth  is,  both  these  cousins  had  been  dead  in 
love  with  Lethy  from  the  time  when  she  was 


80  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

thirteen  and  began  to  notice  outward  things, 
and  each  regarded  the  other  with  the  appre 
hension  natural  to  the  double  relationship. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pate ;  "  them  boys  took 
to  runnin'  ag'in'  one  another  from  time  Lethy's 
ma  let  her  drap  her  pant'lets,  and  begin  to  go  to 
parties  and  fishin's,  and  them  kind  of  things. 
It  hurt  one  of  'em  when  tother  turned  him 
down  at  whatsomever  they  went  at.  They  wasn't 
so  fer  from  bein'  about  on  a  pair  in  gener'l. 
They  said  at  their  school  that  'Lige  had  considible 
the  advantage  in  readin',  but  Ephe  kept  above 
him  in  the  spellin'  class.  They  was  about  ekal 
in  grammar,  and  if  'Lige  was  some  better  in 
jography,  Ephe  topped  him  in  figgers.  So  it 
were  in  their  playin'.  'Lige  in  gener'l  beat 
Ephe  a-runnin',  but  twicet  out  of  three  times 
Ephe  could  lay  'Lige's  back  on  the  ground  in  a 
wrastle." 

Thus,  as  my  friend  in  extended  detail  went  on 
to  relate,  the  rivalry  continued  on  every  field  of 
joint  endeavor  until  all  were  grown  up,  and 
settled  down  to  business ;  for  in  those  times 
girls,  if  in  different  ways,  did  work  for  the 
family,  whether  it  was  needed  or  not.  The 
rivals,  full  of  health  and  activity,  equally  unob 
jectionable  as  to  looks  and  habits,  not  the 
difference  of  an  inch  in  height  or  of  half  a  dozen 
pounds  in  weight,  Ephraim  a  shade  lighter  and 


THEIR   COUSIN  LETHY  81 

Elijah  a  shade  browner  than  Lethy,  continued 
to  besiege  each  in  the  way  he  was  advised  and 
believed  was  most  promising ;  and  Lethy,  sweet, 
good,  thoughtful  girl  that  she  was,  while  never 
showing  signs  of  preference  for  either,  often 
exhorted  them  to  moderate,  if  they  could  not 
altogether  suppress,  their  mutual  hostility. 

"  You  mind,  my  son,"  Mr.  Pate  lingered  to 
remark  in  sage  parenthesis,  "  when  a  girl  is 
pootty  and  sweet  as  any  pink,  and  she  knows  it, 
as  Lethy  Griddle  were  obleeged  to  know  the 
above,  they  can  be  as  cool,  or  at  least  they 
know  how  to  make  believe  they  are  cool  the 
same  'as  a  curcumber,  when  them  that  want  'em 
may  be  hot  as  a  horseshoe  jest  out  of  the  fire. 
And  fact  is,  the  red  hotter  them  gits,  the  cooler 
they  can  show  theirself.  That's  one  o'  the  ad 
vantages  the  good  Lord  have  give'  to  females, 
and  a  fellow  have  to  study  and  pick  up  ex- 
pe'unce  in  sech  things  to  find  out  how  to  git 
round  'em.  Oh,  I  tell  you  now,  and  other  people 
will  tell  you,  that  Joe  Pate  hain't  been  livin' 
this  long  in  the  world  without  getherin'  a  many 
a  useful  itom  of  information  about  wimmin' 
single  and  married,  a-includin'  of  widders, 
because  a  man,  even  if  he  is  married,  he  never 
know  when  sech  infimation  mayn't  come  in 
handy." 

The  counsellor,  and  sometimes  by  special  re- 


82  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

quest  the  go-between,  of  these  lads  and  their 
cousin  was  Curry  Lightner.  He  was  a  tall, 
brownish,  bushy-haired  person,  who,  although 
as  far  gone  in  years  as  twenty-nine  without 
ever  being  even  engaged,  was  one  of  those  cool, 
level-headed  bachelors  not  at  all  common,  and 
was  often  heard  to  say  that  people  might  name 
him  any  name  to  suit  themselves,  but  that  he 
should  not  make  any  movement  toward  getting 
married  until  he  could  be  made  to  believe,  in 
some  one  particular  case,  that  he  would  do  bet 
ter  than  by  staying  single.  On  the  income  of 
his  property,  which  was  somewhat  more  than 
that  of  any  of  the  other  three,  he  lived  at  ease, 
yet  without  extravagance.  He  dressed  neatly, 
but  with  occasional  negligence,  which  some  said 
was  put  on  for  the  purpose  of  showing  (but  all 
for  policy's  sake)  his  independence  of  general 
female  opinion.  He  patiently  let  himself  be 
consulted  by  ardent  young  men  and  youths  in 
their  loves,  and,  although  never  undertaking  to 
become  a  zealous  partisan,  freely  gave  advice 
out  of  his  long,  apparently  unselfish  contem 
plation  of  such  matters,  and  his  stock  of  inter 
esting  words,  which  seemed  without  limit.  In 
the  case  of  Ephraim  and  Elijah,  he  said  to  each 
distinctly  that  while  he  was  willing  to  advise 
freely,  it  must  not  be  expected  of  him  to  take 
an  active  part  on  the  side  of  either,  but  that 


THEIR   COUSIN   LETHY  83 

they  must  fight  the  thing  out  themselves  on 
their  several  lines. 

"No,  Ephe;  no,  'Lige,"  alternately  in  multi 
tudinous  concludings ;  "  you  see  what  I  can  do 
for  you.  My  advices  is  as  free  as  water  a-me- 
and'ring  down  its  own  stream  for  others  to 
partake  besides  itself ;  but  the  making  or  the 
breaking  in  those  aforesaid  things  is  not  to  my 
hand  to  perp'trate,  but  is  for  them  that  is  will 
ing  to  make  enemies  for  what  is  not  their  look 
out  nor  their  own  particular  business.  No ; 
come  to  me  when  your  mind  is  egzited  either 
by  doubts  or  uncertainties,  and  I'll  talk  to  you 
as  free  as  I  would  with  my  own  parrents  if 
they  wasn't  both  of  'em  dead." 

Hardly  satisfactory  as  were  such  interviews 
to  the  lads,  yet  each  was  consoled  by  assurance 
felt  that  the  confidant  would  at  least  never  be 
stir  himself  in  support  of  his  rival.  This  assur 
ance  was  well  founded,  for  in  none  of  Lightner's 
visits  to  the  Griddles',  which  were  frequent,  did 
he  ever  speak  a  word  implying  special  prefer 
ence  in  his  regard  for  either,  although  very 
many  kindly  of  both. 

Chatty  and  vivacious  as  Lethy  was  generally, 
yet  much  of  her  talk  when  with  her  cousins 
separately  was  not  very  interesting,  because  it 
ran  so  much  in  praise  of  the  absent.  One  day, 
when  she  and  Elijah  were  alone  together,  noting 


84        OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

that  her  words  in  praise  of  Ephraim,  if  not  en 
tirely  lost  upon  the  listener,  were  far  from  the 
sort  he  would  have  preferred  to  hear,  after  talk 
ing  until  it  was  becoming  plainly  painful  to  him, 
she  said : 

"  Cousin  'Ligy,  what  is  the  reason  you  and 
Cousin  Ephe  don't  seem  to  like  each  other  like 
you  ought  ?  Seems  strange,  nice  young  men 
like  you  are,  and  both  my  own  dear  cousins  at 
that.  Now  there's  Mr.  Curry  Lightner.  He 
never  comes  here  that  he  don't  have  something 
kind  and  pleasant  to  say  about  you  both ;  while 
you  and  Cousin  Ephe  —  I  do  wish  you  and  he 
could  be  more  friendly,  indeed  I  do." 

"  Has  Ephe  Garrett  been  running  me  down 
to  you,  Lethy  ?  " 

"  There  it  is  !  No,  he  has  not,  as  you  ought 
to  know  well  enough  I  wouldn't  let  him  do  if 
he  was  to  want.  But  neither  has  he  been  run 
ning  you  up,  as  I  suppose  you  would  call  it,  no 
more  than  you've  ever  been  running  him  up  to 
me.  It  isn't  right,  and  hurts  ma's  feelings,  not 
to  say  anything  of  mine,  that  I  don't  suppose, 
because  it  don't  look  like,  either  one  of  you 
cares  anything  about  them." 

These  words,  intended  so  to  be,  were  tremu 
lous  and  touching. 

"  My  goodness,  Lethy  !  Care  about  your  feel 
ings  ?  Me  ?  Why,  Aunt  Patsy  ought  to  know, 


THEIR   COUSIN  LETHY  85 

and  you  can't  help  from  knowing,  that  Ephe 
Garrett  don't  —  that,  no,  not  to  save  his  life, 
could  Ephe  Garrett  —  think  half  as  much  of 
you  as  I  do." 

"  Why  couldn't  he  ? "  she  asked,  restored  to 
calmness  and  coolness. 

"Because  it  ain't  in  him,  Lethy,  and  never 
was  in  him,  and  never  could  git  in  him.  He 
hain't  the  heart  capacity  to  hold  what's  in  me ; 
nor  he  hain't  the  breast,  nor — nor  —  yes,  I'll 
say  it  open  —  he  hain't  it  not  in  one  single  one 
of  his  whole  blessed  inside  of  nervous  fabrica 
tion,  to  leave  love  and  affection  entirely  out  of 
the  case,  whom  to  compare  with  me  and  mine  in 
the  presence  of  you." 

"Whee-oo!  Cousin  Ephe,  according  to  all 
that,  must  be  very  lacking  somewhere." 

"For  that  and  them  onnly,  Lethy;  for  that 
and  them  onnly  is  my  meaning  of  the  above. 
As  to  Ephe  Garrett,  what  I  should  say  about 
Ephe  Garrett,  if  I  was  called  on  to  express  my 
opinion  of  Ephe  Garrett,  it  would  be  that  in 
some  points  of  view  of  a  case  not  of  the  present 
sitooation,  Ephe  Garrett  is  right  much  of  a  man ; 
but  that  in  the  present  sitooation  it  is  me  that 
know  what  you  to  be  in  and  through  yourself, 
and  to  'predate  and  vally  to  the  accordin'.  It 
is  me  that  have  the  judgment  of  your  perfec 
tion  and  all  your  walk  and  conversation  and 


86  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

would  fain  believe,  if  you  could  only  think  as 
I  do,  that  happiness  to  both  of  us  would  be 
commensurate.  And  it  not  onnly  is  hard,  but 
to  me,  in  my  present  egzitement,  it  look  pitiful, 
when  I  am  using  the  most  perspective  words 
I  know  how,  and  trying  to  put  my  very  best 
foot  foremost,  you're  there  a-laughing  at  me, 
and  I  have  no  doubts  in  my  mind  but  what  it's 
because  Ephe  Garrett  has  been  telling  you  some 
thing  mean  and  ridiculous  about  me." 

When  her  laughing  fit  was  over,  she  an 
swered  : 

"  It  isn't  so,  Cousin  'Ligy ;  not  a  bit  of  it. 
When  Cousin  Ephe  is  here  he  talks  mostly  with 
ma  ;  but  neither  ma  nor  I  have  ever  heard  him 
say  one  single  word  against  your  character  in 
any  way.  It's  all  in  your  imagination." 

Yet  he  could  not  entirely  believe  her,  and  he 
went  away  pondering  how  he  might  get  even 
with  Ephe. 

After  waiting  quite  a  time  for  Mr.  Pate  to 
get  thus  far  in  his  narrative,  I  let  him  proceed 
for  some  distance  in  his  own  way. 

"Now  Ephe  Garrett's  huntin'  were  defFent 
from  'Lige,  that  'Lige  went  at  Lethy  straight 
out  mad,  like  Lethy  had  good  rights  to  be  hisn 
and  nobody  else,  and  that  amejent,  which  ain't 
the  thing  with  young,  unexpe'unced  girls,  how- 
somever  it  may  be  with  widders,  that  I  have 


THEIR   COUSIN  LETHY  87 

had  expe'unce  of  both.  And  my  expe'unce  of 
widders  is,  when  they  has  drapped  the  takin' 
on  for  their  husband  that's  dead  and  goned  and 
showed  hisself  to  be  no  more  use  to  them,  and 
arf ter  they  has  made  up  their  mind  to  try  it 
ag'in,  the  thing  can  be  settled  without  any  great 
to-do  in  the  multiplyin'  o'  words.  Why,  there's 
my  wife,  that  she's  my  second,  and  nobody  ever 
had  a  better,  exceptin'  of  my  first  wife,  jest  as 
good,  that  she,  a-meanin'  of  my  wife  for  the 
time  a-bein',  ware  the  widder  Tidy.  I  ain't 
say  in'  it's  so,  but  the  drappin'  off  of  Johnny 
Tidy  not  long  before  my  first  wife  went  to  her 
mansions  in  the  sky  seemed  a'most  like  the  good 
Lord  had  a'  eye  on  my  woeful  conditions, 
knowin'  what  a  friend  to  him  I  had  always 
tried  to  be.  Yit  when  the  case  were  so  be,  and 
come  around  so  natchel  and  conven'ent  like, 
that  there  were  our  two  plantations  a-j'inin',  me 
a  widower  and  Mrs.  Tidy  a  widder,  both  young 
enough  and,  you  may  say,  strong  and  warlike, 
that  one  night  I  thought  it  all  over,  and  next 
mornin'  I  rid  over  there,  and  when  I  putt  the 
case  before  her  (for  she  were  always  a  quick- 
mind'  person  for  a  female),  she  see  through  it 
plain  as  me,  and  before  I  left  that  house  we 
app'inted  the  day.  But  you  see,  my  son,  that's 
widders.  With  young  girls  it's  deff'ent.  A 
man  have  to  flarter  them  up  powerful  when 


88  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

they're  pink  and  scrimptious  like  Lethy  Griddle, 
and  that's  jest  where  Ephe  knowed  'Lige  had 
the  'vantage  of  him  in  the  words  and  lang- 
widges  that  somehow  Ephe  never  could  come  up 
with  like  'Lige,  and  what  he  did  know  of  'em, 
his  bashful  egzitement  made  him  forgit  'em  in 
Lethy 's  company  tell  it  were  too  late.  But 
with  old  people  Ephe  Garrett  could  express 
hisself  to  perfect  satisfaction.  And  so  Ephe 
made  set,  Ephe  did,  at  Lethy's  ma,  because  he 
done  already  heard  the  sayin'  that  a  good  way 
to  ketch  a  calf  silent  and  easy  were  to  fling  a 
nubbin  to  the  cow." 

One  day  Ephe  took  in  to  Mrs.  Griddle  a  bas 
ket  of  nice  country  things,  —  eggs,  butter,  and 
I  couldn't  say  what  all,  —  and  after  usual  sal 
utations,  giving  and  receiving  of  thanks,  with 
no  mention  of  Lethy,  who  had  stepped  over 
to  a  neighbor,  he  said: 

"  I  don't  know,  Aunt  Patsy,  that  you  know 
that  pa  in  his  lifetime  thought  more  of  you 
than  are  sister  or  brother  in  the  family,  and  it 
seems  like  the  same  have  come  down  to  me 
sense  he's  dead  and  gone." 

Then  with  his  left  hand  he  gently  rubbed  his 
right  jaw. 

"  It's  very  nice  in  you  to  say  so,  Ephra'm," 
answered  his  aunt.  "  It  was  jest  last  night 
Lethy  and  I  were  talking  about  how  good  you 


THEIR   COUSIN  LETHY  89 

and  'Ligy  Strouder  was  to  remember  us,  that 
only  yisterday  he  brought  her  a  whole  lot  of 
roses  and  bubby  blossoms." 

Ephe  took  down  his  hand,  laid  it  upon  his 
knee,  and  had  the  looks  of  one  who  felt  suddenly 
somewhat  sick.  Rallying,  he  said  with  words 
beginning  in  melancholy : 

"  Yes ;  I  brought  my  present  to  you,  though 
of  course  I  expected  Cousin  Lethy  to  have  her 
part  —  that  is,  without  she  rather  have  nothing 
to  do  with  anything  belongin'  to  me." 

"Come  now,  Ephra'm;  Lethy  thinks  jest  as 
much  of  you  as  she  do  of  'Ligy  —  that  is,  to  my 
opinion  she  do ;  and  it  seem  a  pity  that  you  and 
him  can't  be  friendlier  with  one  another,  that  it 
look  like  the  poor  child  is  sometimes  distressed 
in  her  mind  at  you  and  him  a-growlin'." 

"Aunt  Patsy,"  he  painfully  remonstrated,  "it 
ain't  me ;  it  is  not  me  that  is  a-growlin'  at  'Lige 
Strouder.  It's  'Lige  Strouder  a-growlin'  at  me ; 
and  not  only  that,  but  a-barkin'  at  me  to  boot. 
Then  you  know  that  he  don't  think  nigh  as  much 
of  Lethy  as  I  do.  As  for  me,  in  this  case,  Aunt 
Patsy,  I  take  in  the  view  not  only  Lethy,  but  I 
take  in  you.  Which  I  have  yit  to  learn  'Lige 
Strouder  do,  with  all  his  high-syllable  words, 
which  he  have  got  out  of  the  dictionary  with 
Curry  Lightner  to  help  him,  and  which  I've  got 
too  much  work  to  do  to  inwestigate.  But  'Lige 


90  OLD   TIMES  IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

Strouder  can't  deny  that  in  the  spellin'-class  at 
Mr.  Hodge's  school  he  were  a  heap  nigher  the 
foot  than  I  were  to  the  head.  'Lige  Strouder 
have  been  studyin'  fine  language  and  things, 
even  o'  nights,  to  find  words  to  turn  me  down 
in  Lethy's  affection,  when  he  know  in  his  con 
science  I  think  a  thousand  million  times  more  of 
her  than  he  do,  even  if  I  can't  p'inted  find  the 
words,  when  me  and  her  is  together  by  our 
selves,  to  lay  myself  open  before  her.  It's  all 
because  I  love  her  to  that  distraction  the  words 
fail  me.  And  so  the  best  I  can  do  is  to  putt 
my  case  before  my  own  blessed  aunt  that  I've 
learnt  to  love  more  than  are  aunt  I've  got  in  all 
this  sorrowful  world,  when  it  look  like  a  pity  a 
young  man  with  the  affections  I  have  can't  git 
the  peace  on  his  mind  he  honest  think  he 
deserve." 

Tears  as  honest  as  the  very  longest  day  of  the 
year  touched  the  aunt's  heart.  One  was  in  her 
own  eye  when  she  said : 

"Ephra'm,  my  son,  I  can  onnly  say  that  if 
the  deciding  of  this  case  was  left  to  me,  you  are 
obleeged  to  be  awares  how  they  would  go.  For 
blood  is  blood,  and  kin  is  kin,  leavin'  out  that 
water  is  water,  and  can't  be  anything  beyant 
water.  I  loved  your  pa  the  same  he  loved  me, 
and  even  if  it  be  Mr.  Griddle  were  foiid  of  'Lijah's 
ma,  yit  blood  is  blood,  which  I  caln't  but  say 


THEIR   COUSIN   LETHY  91 

with  that  basket  a-setting  there  before  my  very 
eyes.  But  I  tell  you  now,  after  them  feeble 
remarks;  it's  a  subject  that  Lethy  have  took  the 
bit  in  her  own  mouth,  and  is  a-goin'  to  decide 
for  her  own  self." 

Ephraim  thanked  his  aunt,  and  went  away 
hopeful  that  what  influence  she  could  exert 
would  preponderate  in  his  favor. 

At  night  when  the  mother  reported  this  in 
terview,  said  Lethy : 

"  That's  all  right,  ma,  —  that  is,  it's  as  nigh 
right  as  Cousin  Ephe  knows  how  to  put  it.  It 
would  be  just  as  well,  though,  if  Cousin  Ephe 
came  at  me  instead  of  you,  and  if  Cousin  'Lige 
came  at  me  different  and  with  fewer  of  his  big 
words,  which  he  ought  to  know  that  I  know 
that  he  don't  know  all  the  meanings  of  'em. 
We'll  see  about  it  before  very  long.  No  use 
hurrying.  What  you  say  about  kin  being  kin, 
and  blood  blood,  is  all  right  in  its  place.  I'm 
sleepy  myself,  I  am." 

Shortly  after  the  last-mentioned  visits,  the 
youths  resorted  alternately  to  their  friend  and 
counsellor. 

"  'Lige,"  said  Mr.  Lightner,  "  you  have  the  ad 
vantage  of  Ephe  in  the  quantities  of  your  words, 
and  the  beautifulness  of  their  significations 
and  sounds ;  for  my  experience  with  women 
is,  they  rather  love  language  and  music,  though 


92  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEOKGIA 

not  a  musician  myself,  strictly  speaking, 
and  have  not  yet  used  my  .best  language  on 
them,  at  least  to  any  solemn  extent.  Them 
words  ( notwithstanding '  and  '  nevertheless ' 
which  you  tell  me  you  flung  out  witli  Lethy, 
keerless,  like  you  was  used  to  them,  will  do  you 
no  harm.  So  the  word  '  commensurate/  al 
though  it  might  have  been  just  as  well  to  say 
what  it  all  was  commensurate  with  —  say  the 
universal  world,  or  some  other  large  thing.  Yit 
I've  no  doubt  she  understood  your  meanings. 
If  I  was  exact  in  your  place,  I  should  go  on 
with  my  circulations,  and  should  keep  a  dic 
tionary  where  I  could  turn  to  it  handy.  A  dic 
tionary,  if  it  mayn't  be  as  interesting  to  some 
people  like  a  love  and  warlike  book,  yit  it  has 
its  use  in  matters  of  your  kind.  For  you  may 
say  what  you  please  about  women,  but  it's 
principal  language  that  taken  their  eye  —  of 
course  I  mean  if  looks,  and  property,  and  other 
advantages  is  satisfact'ry." 

"  Ephe,"  in  his  turn,  "  in  my  view  of  this 
terraqu'ous  life,  as  I  have  seen  named  some 
where  in  my  reading,  the  mind  of  one  female 
freckwent  hangs  on  the  mind  of  another  female, 
and  her  mind,  —  that  is,  the  other  female's  mind, 
—  to  use  a  ruther  low  expression,  a  fellow  have 
to  untwine  it  gradual  tell  he  can  git  himself 
included  along  with  the  girl  of  his  desire.  The 


THEIR    COUSIN   LETHY  93 

advantage  you  have  over  'Lige  in  this  case 
which,  it  is  plain  to  see,  lays  in  Mrs.  Griddle 
being  your  blood  and  not  'Lige's ;  and  if  it  was 
me,  I  should  put  it  forwards  for  all  it  is  worth. 
I  should  keep  on  telling  my  Aunt  Patsy  how 
hard  my  own  pa  loved  her ;  and  as  for  baskets 
and  buckets,  and  those  kind  of  things,  I  should 
just  hang  around  and  actual  pessecute  her  on 
them  lines.  Of  course  I  can't  interfere  active 
between  you  and  'Lige,  being  both  of  you  my 
friends,  civil  and  political.  It  is  for  you  and 
'Lige  to  work  the  thing  out  for  your  own  selves 
accordin'  to  the  lamp  by  which  both  your  feet 
is  guided,  like  Patrick  Henry  said  at  the  Decla 
ration  of  Independence." 

Indefinite  and  not  quite  intelligible  as  such 
counsels  were,  the  rivals  felt,  though  in  some 
darkness,  the  need  of  holding  to  them. 

Young  as  I  was,  I  did  not  feel  very,  very 
tired  as  the  old  man  fondly  dwelt  in  elongated 
detail.  The  lengthening  shadows  of  the  trees 
warned  him  to  advance  to  the  end.  Casting 
his  eye  momentarily  at  the  fast-declining  sun, 
he  said : 

"  Well,  there's  a  heap  more  of  up  and  downs ; 
but  I  reckon  I  as  well  finish  up,  and  tell  how 
the  contendin'  parties  run  the  thing  to  a  head. 
Rudisill  have  drawed  off  his  mill-pond.  At  sech 
times  whole  lots  o'  people  gethered  there  to 


94  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

ketch  fish  with  seines  and  nets,  and  one  thing 
and  another.  Now  Ephe  Garrett,  when  oncet 
he  were  too  rapid  in  the  shettin'  of  his  seine 
that  was  jes  jammed  with  suckers  and  cat  and 
red-bellies,  she  were  split  ag'in'  a  rock,  and  he 
skint  his  knee,  and  sprained  his  ankle,  and  he 
have  to  lay  at  home  for  a  whole  munt.  And 
in  the  time  news  got  out  that  Ephe  Garrett 
have  the  rheumatiz,  which  have  come  down  to 
him  on  his  mother's  side  of  the  house.  Nobody 
knowed  who  started  it,  but  Ephe  sispicioned 
'Lige  Strouder,  and  he  declared  he'd  git  even 
with  'Lige.  So  one  day  he  went  in  town,  and 
he  hopped  about  on  his  cretch  all  over  town, 
a-denyin'  o'  the  words,  and  a-addin'  that  'Lige 
Strouder's  people  have  had  the  consum'tion  on 
his  father's  side,  a-includin'  of  a'  old  aunt  that 
had  a  cough  that  lasted  sixty  year  and  better, 
and  she  tired  out  two  whole  gineration  o'  peo 
ple  before  she  give  out ;  that  of  course  sech  a 
disease,  when  it  oncet  got  in  a  family  o'  people, 
it  stayed  there  to  the  very  last  prosterity  of 
'em.  Well,  sir,  when  things  got  to  that  solemn 
p'int,  some  thin'  have  got  to  be  done.  And  so 
Ephe  sent  word  to  'Lige,  and  'Lige  sent  word 
to  Ephe,  that  soon  as  Ephe  could  fling  away 
his  cretch  they  was  to  meet  at  Eland's  store 
and  settle  it.  Now  sech  as  that  skeared  Mrs. 
Griddle  to  that  she  begged  Lethy  to  decide  in 


THEIR   COUSIN  LETHY  95 

her  mind  before  the  battle  come  round,  and 
Lethy  declared  she  meant  to.  And  so  one 
mornin'  Lethy  putt  on  her  very  best  frock  and 
things,  and  her  ma  didn't  say  anything  because 
she  knowed  night  before  what  was  up,  and  she 
looked  solemn,  but  she  said  she  were  riconciled. 
Bimeby  here  come  ridin'  in  town  the  old  man 
Sanford  that  he  was  the  parscher  of  their 
church,  and  he  lit  at  the  Robys',  and  were  met 
at  the  gate  by  Curry  Lightner,  and  them  two 
and  Mrs.  Roby,  Curry's  sister,  went  straight 
across  to  the  Griddles',  and  in  less'n  a  half  a' 
hour  Lethy  and  Curry  was  j'ined  in  the  banes, 
and  then  they  lit  in  the  Roby  gig,  and  was  off 
on  a  tower  clean  as  fer  as  A' gusty,  where  they 
stayed  one  whole  solid  week." 

"  And  what,"  I  asked,  "  did  the  other  young 
men  do  ?  " 

"  Do  ?  why,  they  was  both  in  the  sitooation 
of  the  feller  the  calf  runned  over.  They  was 
both  of  'em  speechless,  and  had  nothin'  to  do 
nor  say.  When  their  langwidges  come  back  to 
'em,  Ephe  said  that  as  his  cousin  Lethy  wouldn't 
take  him,  he  were  thankful  she  did  not  take 
'Lige ;  and  'Lige  said  the  same  about  Ephe. 
And  when  Curry  Lightner  got  back,  and  call 
'em  <  Cousin  Ephe  '  and  '  Cousin  'Lige '  kind  and 
affectionate,  and  declare  he  have  not  putt  hisself 
in  his  best  langwidge  before  Lethy  tell  he  see 


96  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

they  has  run  the  lenkt  of  ther  rope,  they  for 
give  him.  And  'tweren't  a  year  before  Ephe 
married  'Lige's  sister,  and  'Lige  married  Ephe's 
sister ;  and  then  the  whole  lot  of  'em  got  jest 
overwhelmed  with  one  Another  together  in  good 
feelin's  all  around." 


OLD  LADY  LAZENBERRY 


OLD   LADY  LAZENBERRY 

As  Mr.  Pate  advanced  in  age  it  seemed  to  con 
sole  him  much  that,  though  interested  listeners 
to  his  chattings  gradually  diminished  in  numbers 
on  account  of  his  deafness  and  growing  garru- 
lousness,  I  remained  steadfastly  loyal.  One  Sat 
urday  afternoon,  sure  that,  as  usual,  he  would 
be  at  the  store,  I  went  there.  After  all  except 
myself,  with  one  and  another  excuse,  had  gone 
away  from  him,  knowing  that  he  expected  me 
to  ask  him  for  another  story,  I  did  so. 

"  Another  story,  eh  ?  Ain't  you  afeard  you'll 
git  sp'ilt,  havin'  a  man  o'  expe'unce  and  obserwa- 
tion  talkin'  to  thes  you  by  your  lone  self  ?  No ; 
no  danger.  Pity  but  what  some  grown  people 
would  follow  the  egzample  of  not  a-interruptin' 
ner  runnin'  away  from  convisation  which  is 
meant  for  their  good,  and  their  good  only,  if 
they  had  the  jedgment  to  see  it.  Well,  what 
sort  o'  story  you  want  —  Injun  story,  fightin' 
story,  or  what  ?  " 

I  answered  that,  if  all  the  same  to  him,  I  pre 
ferred  one  with  a  good  deal  of  love  and  courting 

99 


100  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

strung  along,  and  some  marrying  toward  the 
end. 

"  Thes  listen  to  that !  This  here  boy  !  And 
him  eight  year  old  last  Chuesday !  Fer  I  were 
at  the  house  and  I  heerd  his  ma  say  it  were  his 
birthday.  And  I  had  to  run  my  hand  in  my 
pocket  and  jerk  out  a  thrip  for  him.  And  his 
ma  hizitated  about  him  takin'  of  it ;  but  she 
give  in  when  she  see  my  feelin's  would  be  hurted, 
and  I  conwinced  her  that  a  thrip  give  by  a 
neighbor  at  sech  a  time  weren't  big  enough 
money  to  make  a  fool  o'  nobody  noways.  Yes, 
he  were  eight  year  old  a  Chuesday,  this  here 
boy,  and  he  want  to  hear  about  courtin'  and 
marryin'.  Yit  a  body  is  obleeged  to  acknowledge 
that  it's  in  the  blood  o'  people,  old  or  young. 
Courtin'  and  marryin'  has  been  goin'  on  ever 
sence  Adam  and  Eve  in  the  gyarden,  and  down 
till  yit  it's  the  interestinest  occepation  people 
can  foller  and  hear  tell  about.  I  have  putt  my 
mind  a  right  smart  on  the  subject,  and  it  have 
arriv'  to  the  settlin'  of  it  that  the  good  Lord 
made  'em  so  in  the  offstart,  fer  to  make  'em 
have  and  keep  up  their  respect  of  a  inst'ootion 
he  see  it  were  the  best  he  could  do  fer  thes  sich 
a  set.  For  my  expe'unce  of  the  good  Lord  have 
been  and  is  that  he  know  his  own  business  better 
than  anybody  can  tell  him  ;  that  I  have  said  so 
to  warous  people  many  and  many  a  time,  some 


OLD   LADY   LAZENBERRY  101 

of  'em  heedin'  my  word,  and  some  not,  as  the 
case  might  be,  a'cordin'  to  the  gumption  that 
deffer'nt  people  has,  more  or  less.  And  —  but 
this  here  boy  want  a  story,  he  do." 

For  a  moment  or  so  he  seemed  dropped  into 
reminiscent  mood  ;  then,  looking  down  upon  me, 
he  said  : 

"  I  ruther  think  I'll  make  a  few  remarks  to 
day  on  the  old  lady  Lazenberry." 

He  smiled  with  benevolent  compassion,  mov 
ing  his  head  slowly  up  and  down,  and  proceeded  : 

"  My  expe'unce  of  old  people  —  that  is,  what 
you  might  call  oldish  people  —  it  is  that  when 
courtin'  once  take  a  start  with  'em,  it  is  rapider 
and  it  is  p'inteder  than  young  people,  and  it's 
because,  a-knowin'  what  little  sunshine  they  got 
left,  they  see  the  importance  o'  getherin'  in 
what  hay  they  see  a-layin'  round.  Now  the  old 
lady  Lazenberry  she  never  liked  the  name  her 
self,  but  they  called  her  that  to  sip'rate  her  from 
her  daughter-in-law. 

"  The  family  lived  on  t'other  side  the  Ogee- 
chee,  not  fur  from  Long  Creek  meetin'-house, 
where  she  were  a  member  in  good  standin'  from 
the  time  she  j'ined,  a  girl,  till  now,  when  she 
have  outlived  two  husbands,  and  active  and  spry 
as  the  youngest  widder  a-goin'.  Her  first  hus 
band  were  'Lihu  Lazenberry,  and  after  he  died 
leavin'  her  with  three  children,  his  brother  Isaac, 


102       OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

a-feelin'  hisself  adequate  to  the  above,  stepped  in 
and  extenduated  the  family  two  better.  Then 
he  died,  thes  like  everybody  do  when  their  time 
come.  And  when,  some  time  atterwards,  she 
begun  to  streak  her  black  with  red  ribbins  and 
things,  people  that  thought  she  were  goin'  to 
give  up  to  numerous  affliction  acknowledged 
they  were  mistakened  in  their  mind.  She  were 
always  one  o'  that  kind  o'  wimming  that,  when 
they  know  they've  got  a  better  head  on  'em 
than  them  around  'em,  would  go  'long  and  do 
what  they  wanted.  Both  her  husbands  knewed 
that,  and  was  proud  of  her ;  for  she  were  a  ele 
gant  manager,  which  they  weren't,  and  have  got 
a  right  nice  property  together. 

"  Now,  unfort'nately  there  were  another  fe 
male  in  the  family  that  had  ambition  for  the 
same,  and  that  were  Sally  Ann,  Billy  Lazen- 
berry's  wife.  But  there's  a  deffunce  betwixt 
wimming  that  have  a  head  and  know  it,  and  them 
that  think  they  have  got  a  head  and  hain't,  and 
that  were  the  case  with  Sally  Ann.  Billy  ner 
none  the  other  children,  married  or  not,  never 
thought  o'  sich  a  thing  as  tryin'  to  hector  over 
their  ma.  But  Sally  Ann,  knowin'  that  Billy 
bein'  a  good-hearted  fellow,  and  wouldn't  quoil, 
she  severial  times  ondertook  to  tell  her  ma-in-law 
she  ought  to  do  this  and  she  oughn't  to  do  that, 
and  the  old  lady,  fer  Billy's  sake,  only  thes 


OLD   LADY  LAZENBERRY  103 

smiled,  and  went  on  about  her  business  same  as 
ef  Sally  Ann  hadn't  opened  her  mouth.  You 
onderstand,  she  see  Sally  Ann  never  have  nigh 
the  head  she  have  herself,  and  'tweren't  worth 
while  to  bother  with  her  'ithout  the  time  come 
to  use  her  to  help  fetch  about  anything  she  have 
made  up  her  mind  she  want.  And,  shore 
enough,  it  did  along  o'  them  red  ribbins  and 
things  I  told  you  about.  Sally  Ann  ought  to 
have  knew,  like  everybody  else  did,  that  the  old 
lady  weren't  goin'  to  stay  a  widder  providin' 
she  could  suit  herself ;  for  she  weren't  but  forty- 
nine  year  old,  and  she  were  as  perfect  healthy 
and  active  as  Sally  Ann,  every  bit  and  grain, 
and  as  fer  looks,  she  helt  her  own  remarkable. 
She  were  never  at  no  time  what  people  called  a 
great  beauty,  but  she  full  made  up  by  cha-recter 
and  industr'ous  and  good  managy,  and  special 
the  good  head  she  always  carried  about  with 
her." 

Despite  what  then  seemed  to  me  the  very  far 
advanced  age  of  the  lady  thus  for  the  third  time 
indulging  herself  in  romantic  speculations,  my  old 
friend's  numerous  words  were  more  interesting 
to  me  than  I  could  hope  to  make  them  to  others 
by  rehearsal.  I  must  narrate  in  brief,  there 
fore,  some  facts  told  by  him  in  much  fond  detail. 

For  reasons  sufficient  in  her  own  mind,  Mrs. 
Billy  Lazenberry  decided  that  her  mother-in-law 


104  OLD   TIMES    IN   MIDDLE   GEOIIGIA 

should  not  marry  again  if  she  could  hinder  it. 
Knowing  this,  the  elder,  on  her  part,  decided  to 
use  her  daughter-in-law  in  furtherance  of  her 
intentions  general  and  special. 

When  the  widow  had  put  on  what  Mr.  Pate 
styled  her  "  red  ribbins  and  things,"  marrying 
gentlemen  began  to  surmise  that,  whatever  else 
might  be  the  result,  she  would  not  take  offence 
at  approaches  in  ways  of  gentlemen  that  were 
not  improperly  urgent,  and  with  words  choicely 
persuasive.  Among  these  was  Mr.  James  Boze,  a 
bachelor  whom  young  people,  for  years,  had  been 
calling  Uncle  Jeenis.  Although  a  gentleman  of 
some  firmness  of  character  and  a  reasonably  good 
business  man,  he  was  slow  in  action,  and  modest 
to  a  degree  that  made  him  a  favorite  listener 
with  those  who  much  preferred  their  own  to  the 
conversation  of  others.  He  professed  to  be  a 
lover  of  what  he  called  "  the  seek,"  even  acknow 
ledging  an  intensity  of  feeling  occasionally,  when 
in  the  presence  of  one  specially  attractive,  that 
produced  titillation  in  his  nostrils  leading  to  vio 
lent  sneezing  when  he  had  no  more  sign  of  a 
cold  than  the  most  clear-headed  among  my 
readers  at  this  minute.  Embarrassment,  soon 
degenerating  into  inanity,  had  heretofore  kept 
him  from  making  known  the  state  of  his  feelings 
to  any  particular  lady.  Now,  being  about  the 
age  of  the  widow  Lazenberry,  or  perhaps  a  year 


OLD   LADY   LAZENBERKY  105 

or  so  older,  lie  was  generally  believed  to  be  one 
who  might  be  counted  out  when  marriage  was 
the  theme  of  conversation  among  the  neighbors. 
A  rather  small  man  in  the  beginning,  latterly  he 
had  seemed  to  age  and  dwindle  rather  fast  for 
one  of  his  years.  He  lived  close,  closer  in  the 
lapse  of  time  and  the  fading  away  of  romantic 
ideas  and  hopes.  With  both  the  late  Lazenberrys 
he  had  been  a  good  friend,  and  many  a  time  at 
the  Lazenberry  table  had  he  been  joked  with  by 
the  last  for  continuing  to  be  an  old  bachelor. 
Repelling  such  a  charge  as  well  as  he  could,  he 
thanked  Mrs.  Lazenberry,  and  always  remem 
bered  her  for  coming  to  his  support  on  such  oc 
casions  by  maintaining  that  the  only  reason  why 
he  had  not  married  was  that  his  time  hadn't 
come. 

Now  there  may  or  there  may  not  have  been 
something  peculiar  in  a  look  which  Mr.  Boze 
received  from  Mrs.  Lazenberry  on  that  Sunday 
at  Long  Creek  meeting-house  when  she  ap 
peared  first  in  colors.  He  indulged  a  small  hope 
that  there  was ;  but  he  was  not  a  man  to  pre 
sume  upon  such  a  thing.  Yet  there  was  noticed 
somewhat,  if  only  a  trifle,  of  brightening  in  his 
looks  and  dress,  and  a  slight  propensity  to  sneeze 
whenever  the  lady's  name  was  mentioned  in  his 
hearing.  In  this  simple  society  there  were  al 
most  no  secrets.  If  there  had  been,  Mrs.  Billy 


106  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

Lazenberry  would  have  been  apt  to  make  early 
acquaintance  with  one  as  interesting  as  this. 
As  it  was,  her  mother-in-law,  far  from  indulging 
any  motive  of  concealment,  for  reasons  good  and 
sufficient  wished  her  to  have  knowledge  of  every 
thing  existing,  and  suspicion  as  far  as  possible 
beyond  it.  Mrs.  Billy  had  laughingly  been  hav 
ing  a  good  deal  to  say  about,  as  she  expressed  it, 
"  old  uncle  Jeems  Boze  a-primping  hisself  here 
lately."  Something  pointed  seemed  needful  for 
the  occasion ;  so  one  day,  when  Billy  was  at  his 
mother's,  she  said  to  him,  "  Billy,  Sally  Ann 
have  been  a-ridiculin'  of  Jeems  Boze  right 
smart,  and  if  you  could  git  her  to  stop  it,  possi 
ble  it  might  be  jest  as  well  as  not/' 

"  Law,  ma,  I  can't  no  more  stop  Sally  Ann 
from  sech  as  that  than  I  can  shet  up  all  out  o' 
doors.  You  know  that,  ma." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  my  son.  Pity  but  what  you 
could.  Sally  Ann,  exceptin'  of  ruther  too  much 
tongue,  is  a  good  woman  and  a  excellent  wife. 
Maybe  if  you'll  try  it  again  you'll  have  better 
luck.  Because  you  know  Jeems  Boze  is  not 
a  for'ard  person,  and  sech  as  that  might  hurt 
his  feelin's  and  discourage  him,  which  nobody 
ought  to  want  to  make  enemies." 

Billy  promised  to  undertake  the  task. 

"  Now,  my  boy,"  here  said  Mr.  Pate  in  paren 
thesis,  "  there  were  where  the  old  lady  showed 


OLD   LADY  LAZENBERRY  107 

the  head  she  had  over  Sally  Ann.  She  knewed 
that  when  Billy  begun  on  Sally  Ann,  it  would 
turn  her  tongue  perfect  loose  on  Jeems  Boze, 
and  that's  what  she  wanted  done.  And  then 
she  want  to  fling  out  to  Billy  in  an  affectionate, 
motherly  way,  so  to  prepar'  his  mind  for  what 
might  be  comin'  onexpected-like." 

As  was  foreseen,  Mrs.  Billy,  after  report  of  the 
conversation,  excited  by  this  new  view  of  the 
case,  became  more  intent  than  before  upon  re 
pressing  Mr.  Boze.  She  went  about  picking  up 
all  there  was  to  be  had  against  him,  adding 
freely  other  things  that  in  her  opinion  would  be 
far  more  discreditable  if  they  could  only  be 
found  out.  Mr.  Boze,  —  most  harmless  and 
peace-loving  of  mankind,  never  having  been  in 
a  quarrel  of  any  sort  in  all  his  life,  and  timid, 
especially  with  regard  to  women,  —  looking  upon 
all  this  as  a  warning,  decided  that  it  was  most 
prudent  for  him  to  stop  right  where  he  was,  get 
back  amain  into  his  old  clothes,  shave  himself 
as  before  but  once  a  week,  and  that  only  in 
spots,  indifferent  as  to  the  number  of  gashes 
from  an  unstropped  razor,  and  give  it  out  that 
his  health  was  bad,  and  he  had  no  expectation 
or  wish  to  live  much  longer.  It  is  curious, 
when  a  man  comes  to  be  afraid  of  a  woman, 
how  intensely  afraid  he  can  get.  At  the  bare 
mention  of  Mrs.  Sally  Ann  Lazenberry's  name 


108  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

Mr.  Boze's  countenance  became  utterly  woe-be- 
gone,  his  small  frame  shrank  yet  smaller,  and  he 
trembled  sensibly  without,  and  more  so  within. 
It  was  actually  pitiful  how  this  humble,  good 
man  wilted  before  the  blasts  of  Mrs.  Sally  Ann 
Lazenberry.  When  the  widow  had  noted  as 
much  as  was  satisfactory  of  all  this,  she  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Aha !  "  and  then  added  to  herself,  «  Sally 
Ann  is  a  conven'enter  thing  to  have  about  sech 
a  matter  than  a  body  might  even  want." 

The  afternoon  was  far  worn  before  the  con 
clusion  of  this  story.  I  often  recall  my  old 
friend's  interest,  greater,  evidently,  because  of 
the  ripe  ages  of  the  lovers.  Passing  over  his 
very  many  words  in  narrating  the  subsequent 
doings  of  the  parties  interested,  I  subjoin  some 
remarks  of  the  one  most  prompt  and  active  in 
conducting  them  to  a  happy  end. 

One  day,  a  fortnight  or  so  after  an  event  the 
excitement  of  which  began  to  subside  the  sooner, 
perhaps,  for  being  the  third  of  its  kind,  this  per 
son,  in  answer  to  a  neighbor's  congratulations, 
among  very  many  others,  said  the  following 
words : 

"  I  thanky,  Mrs.  Ivy.  The  longer  a  body  live 
in  this  world,  it  seem  like  the  bigger  their  ex- 
pe'unce  is  bound  to  be.  When  I  was  a  girl,  of 
course,  like  other  girls,  I  looked  forrards,  and 


OLD   LADY   LAZENBERRY  109 

when  I  got  married,  I  done  it  accordin'  to  the 
Lord's  app'intment,  which  I  believe  in  the  same 
in  such  cases  as  I  believe  in  you  a-settin'  there. 
Well,  'Lihu  Lazenberry  he  was  a  good  husband, 
like  he  promised,  but  he  died,  leaving  me  a  wid- 
der  with   three   children.     And   after   a  while 
Isaac  Lazenberry  he  overpersuaded  me,  not  ex 
pected,  and  in  the  course  of  time  Isaac  Lazen 
berry  went,  and  there  I  were  again,  with  two 
more  orphans.     Now  the  Tostle  Paul,  you  know 
yourself,  Mrs.  Ivy,  he  writ  that  when  a  female 
person  have  lost  her  companion,  it  is  perfect  law 
ful  for  her  to  have  another ;  and  it  seem  like  to 
me  the  Tostle  Paul  give  his  advices  freer  to 
widders  than  young  girls,  being  appearant  ruther 
doubtful  sometimes  about  young  girls,  but  p'inted 
that  widders  better  had.     Hadn't  been  so,  I'd  'a' 
never  took  Isaac  Lazenberry,   and  when  Isaac 
Lazenberry  went,   it   wouldn't   been  worth   no 
man  person's  while  to  even  name  sech  a  subject 
to  me,  which  I  has  no   doubt,   Mrs.   Ivy,  you 
were  the  same  when  Mr.  Ivy  come  at  you  after 
your  first  husband  died,  a  not  doubtin'  but  what 
the  Tostle  Paul  knowed  what  he  was  a-talkin' 
about.     Now,  fact  o'   the  business  is,   idees  of 
the  kind,  after  Isaac  Lazenberry  went,  might 
of  kept  longer  out  of  my  mind  hadn't  been  for 
Sally  Ann,  that  everybody  know  the  fun'ril  of 
Isaac  Lazenberry  weren't  so  very  fur  over  when 


110  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

Sally  Ann,  thinkin'  my  business  were  her  busi 
ness,  she  begun  to  talk.  Then  I  stuck  on  the 
breast  of  my  frock,  one  little,  lone,  red  ribbin, 
thes  to  let  Sally  Ann  know  that  my  business 
was  a  thing  that  I  were  goin'  to  tend  to  myself 
'ithout  a-askin'  of  her  fer  help.  To  tell  the  truth, 
I  hadn't  been  pesterin'  my  mind  noways  about 
Jeems  Boze  partic'lar.  But  when  Jeems  Boze 
got  hisself  some  new  clothes,  and  begun  to  hold 
hisself  straighter,  and  look  like  he  thought  some- 
thin'  of  hisself,  and  when  I  ketched  his  eye 
Sunday  meetin's,  lookin'  at  me  friendly  and 
wishful,  and  I  let  him  see  my  feelin's  weren't 
hurted  by  sech  behavior,  why,  of  course  I  begun 
to  have  that  same  flutterin'  in  my  breast  that 
a  female  can't  keep  herself  from  havin'  sech  a 
time  and  in  them  conditions,  albe  same  like 
before  it  were  not  expected,  and  I  begun  to  be 
a-waitin'  to  see  what  Jeems  Boze  were  goin'  to 
do  about  it. 

"  But  now  Sally  Ann  she  let  her  tongue  go 
loose  at  both  ends,  as  the  sayin'  is,  against 
Jeems  Boze  to  sech  a  scan'lous  pitch  that  it 
skeert  Jeems  Boze,  and  made  him  drap  back 
further  than  before  in  his  bachelor  ways,  and  he 
never  come  anigh  me,  and  he  tell  people  that 
it  wouldn't  be  so  very  long  before  they'd  find 
him  at  the  p'int  o'  death.  Now,  don't  you 
know,  Mrs.  Ivy,  that  sech  as  that  made  me 


OLD   LADY  LAZENBERRY  111 

feel  sorry  for  Jeems  Boze  ?  Why,  of  course  it 
was  obleeged  to.  And  then  I  put  on  more 
red,  and  I  determined  in  my  mind  to  thes  kiver 
myself  all  over  with  red  ruther  than  to  let  Sally 
Ann  drive  him  to  the  insignif'cance  she  were 
appearant  bent  on.  But  you  know,  Mrs.  Ivy,  I 
never  could  ketch  Jeems  Boze's  eye  to  let  him 
understand  my  signs  and  feelin's,  he  were  that 
skeert  of  Sally  Ann.  That  made  the  yearnester 
the  flutterin'  I  had  fer  him  in  my  breast,  and  so 
one  Sat' day  night,  when  my  Sam  were  startin' 
for  his  wife's  house  (she  that  were  Jeems  Boze's 
Judy),  I  told  him  to  tell  his  Marse  Jeems  from 
me  not  to  mind  Sally  Ann's  talk,  and  that  I 
had  neither  part  ner  lot  in  it.  And  when  Sam 
came  back  a  Monday  mornin',  he  said  the  words 
made  his  Marse  Jeems  fa'rly  jump  out  of  his 
cheer-  and  next  mornin'  he  got  out  his  new 
clothes  and  put  'em  on,  and  he  shaved  hisself 
nice  and  clean,  and  he  told  Sam  if  he  didn't  feel 
ruther  skeert  to  do  it,  he'd  get  on  his  horse  and 
ride  straight  over  here.  And  he  told  Sam  to 
tell  me  to  try  to  fetch  back  my  mind,  and  see  if 
I  couldn't  ricollect  tellin'  him  the  reason  why 
he  hadn't  got  married  it  were  because  his  time 
hadn't  come.  Did  you  ever  see  anything  dili- 
cater  than  that  ?  And  I  made  Sam  go  right 
straight  back  and  tell  him  I  ricollect  perfect, 
and  it  seemed  like  to  me  the  same  as  a  inarracle. 


112  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

And  so,  not  long  after,  here  come  a-ridin'  up  the 
lane  nobody  but  Jeems  Boze,  a-suspicionin'  of 
which  I  had  already  put  on  my  best  frock.  And 
soon  as  he  come  in  the  house  and  shook  hands, 
he  trimbled  and  he  sneezed  and  he  set  down 
awk'ard-like ;  and  I  were  pleased  in  my  mind 
to  see  his  egzitement,  because  you  know  your 
self  it's  the  nature  of  a  dilicate  female,  even  if 
it  have  been  twice  before,  to  not  seem  like  too 
willin'  when  a  man  person  come  at  her  on  sech 
a  arrant,  and  so  he  may  feel  ruther  skeert  and 
dubious,  and  not  be  holdin'  his  head  up  too 
high  and  bold.  At  first  Jeems  Boze  were 
speechless  till  I  handed  him  a  tumbler  of  water 
with  my  own  hands,  and  said  I  thought  he 
looked  uncommon  well  that  mornin',  which  he 
did;  then  he  peertened  up,  and  —  well  —  what 
followed,  followed.  And  I  sent  for  Billy  and  the 
girls  that's  married  ;  and  they  all  acknowledged 
I  have  been  a  good  mother  to  them,  and  that  if 
I  felt  it  were  my  juty  to  get  married  again,  they 
were  thankful  in  their  mind  it  were  as  good  a 
man  as  their  Uncle  Jeems  Boze.  Of  course  Sally 
Ann  knocked  under  when  she  found  she  had  it 
to  do." 

She  paused  awhile,  and  then  added  with  some 
pathos : 

"  And  why  shouldn't  she,  Mrs.  Ivy  ?  What 
have  I  done  to  be  found  fault  with  by  Sally  Ann 


OLD  LADY  LAZENBERRY  113 

or  anybody  else  ?  Is  a  widder,  even  a  two-time 
widder,  got  nothin'  else  to  do  but  thes  set  down 
or  go  about  grievin'  fer  them  that's  gone,  and 
a-complainin'  of  the  good  Lord  fer  takin'  of 
'em  ?  And  ain't  a  widder,  even  if  she  ain't 
young  as  some,  ain't  she  liable  to  get  lonesome 
and  to  want  company  like  other  wimming  ?  I 
know  well  as  if  I  had  heard  'em  that  some 
people  laughed  when  the  widder  Lazenberry 
have  got  married  a  third  time,  and  that  to 
Jeems  Boze,  not  expected.  But  sech  as  that 
don't  faze,  and  is  perfect  idle  wind  to  me  and 
Jeems  Boze,  that  if  I  ever  see  a  happy  man 
person  and  contented  in  his  mind,  as  he  ac 
knowledge  it  hisself,  it  is  Jeems  Boze,  that  he 
solemn  declare  he  were  glad  his  time  never 
come  till  it  did ;  and  as  for  kind  and  biddable 
and  convenant  man  person  for  a  woman  to  have 
about  the  house,  and  do  what  she  want  done, 
and  not  do  what  she  don't  want  done,  —  I  say 
it  bold, —  I  don't  believe  in  my  mind  there's 
anybody  anywheres  to  beat  Jeems  Boze.  And, 
oh,  it's  my  hopes  and  my  honest  pra'rs  that  the 
good  Lord  mayn't  seemeth  him  meet  to  make 
me  another  widder.  For,  as  you  has  the  ex- 
pe'unce  to  know  yourself,  Mrs.  Ivy,  it's  only 
them  that  has  been  one  that  know  what  the 
feelin's  of  it  is." 

"  You  see,  my  son,"   Mr.  Pate  said,  in  con- 


114  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

elusion,  "that  courtin'  and  marryin'  ain't  a 
thing  of  people's  age,  ner  of  their  been  married 
before  oncet  or  twicet  and  left  singuil.  I  might 
add  three  times  or  four  times ;  number  o'  times 
got  no  thin'  to  do  with  it.  It's  thes  the  natur'  o' 
people  to  not  want  to  live  by  their  lone  self, 
and  when  their  pardner  is  took  away  from  'em, 
if  they  don't  git  another  it  ain't  because  they 
don't  want  to.  And  when  you  git  old  enough 
to  study  about  sich  things,  if  your  mind  have 
the  strenkt  to  take  'em  in,  you'll  see  that  them 
married  wimming  that  busies  theirselves  the 
most  strenious  about  widders  a-marryin'  ag'in 
is  the  very  ones,  nine  times  in  ten,  to  do  the 
very  same  like  ways  theirself  when  their  hus 
bands  drap  off  —  young  or  old,  make  no  odds 
which,  'ithout  they're  so  old  as  to  forgit  or  to 
not  know  what  they  do  want.  Time  and  tide 
waits  for  nobody.  And  if  you  do  be  too  young 
to  know  it  now,  it's  a  fact  that  you  never  will 
hear  a  sensibler  obserwation  than  what  that  call 
itself. 

"  You  better  go  back  to  your  ma  now.  She 
might  git  oneasy  and  be  a-sendin'  fer  you.  Spent 
that  thrip  I  give  you  Chuesday?  There,  now, 
I  knowed  he  had !  Never  mind.  If  both  of  us 
lives  to  his  next  birthday,  he  shall  have  another." 


OUR  WITCH 


OUR   WITCH 

What  are  these  .  .  . 

That  look  not  like  the  inhabitants  o'  the  earth, 
And  yet  are  on 't  ?  —  MACBETH. 

WITCHES  —  those,  I  mean,  that  were  visible, 
tangible,  and  liable  to  be  caught  at  their  prac 
tices —  were  scarce  in  the  extreme  South.  Warm 
weather  or  something  else  discouraged  immigra 
tion.  Now  and  then  an  old  early  settler  who 
was  posted  on  their  history  was  not  quite  sure 
in  his  mind  but  that  ghosts  of  a  few  flitted  about 
of  nights,  playing  their  pranks,  though  not  to  a 
very  alarming  degree.  Relief  of  its  kind  was 
derived  from  the  generally  accorded  fact  that 
their  visitations  were  confined  to  those  of  their 
own  sex,  and  consisted  chiefly  in  knotting  manes 
and  tails  of  mares,  drying  up  milch  cows,  ruffling 
the  feathers  of  setting  hens,  and  spreading  night 
mares  over  the  breasts  of  honest  women,  who, 
after  hearty  suppers  richly  deserved  for  hard 
days'  work,  went  to  their  beds  never  dreaming, 
until  fast  asleep,  what  was  coming.  Preventives 
were  used  by  those  who  were  apprehensive  of 

117 


OLD   TIMES    IX   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

such  molest  ings  of  their  premises.  The  one  re- 
gMded  most  reliable  was  a  meal-sieve  ^called 
sifter)  hung  on  the  outside  of  doors.  The  argu 
ment  ran  thus:  From  the  very  beginning  of  the 
institution  of  witches,  one  of  the  fixed  rules  of 
their  discipline  was  that,  when  confronted  by 
this  useful  domestic  implement,  they  were  to  go 
in  and  out  of  every  one  of  its  openings  before  pro 
ceeding  farther.  Pausing  to  calculate  that  such 
continuous  up-and-down,  right-and-left  move 
ment  over  and  through  a  limited  circular  plane. 
on,  above,  and  beneath  which  were  few  objects 
to  interest  a  traveller,  might  not  be  completed 
before  daybreak,  more  often  than  otherwise  they 
turned  their  backs  and  went  away  in  disappoint 
ment. 

Yet  there  was  believed  to  be  one  in  bodily, 
actively  moving,  even  notably  discernible,  exist 
ence,  whose  suspected  practices  in  the  way  of 
her  profession  wrought  for  a  while  considerable 
distress  in  a  family  that  was  living  theretofore 
in  moderate  peace,  at  least  with  the  world  out 
side  of  itself.  The  witch  was  Mrs.  Polly  Boddy. 
and  the  family  the  Magraws.  From  the  very 
start  Mrs.  Magraw,  whose  maiden  name  was 
Nancy  Tall,  was  plain,  and  she  continued  grow 
ing  on  that  line  until  one  ceased  to  look  for  any 
change  for  the  better.  During  the  good  many 
years  of  waiting  in  her  young  womanhood  she 


OUK   WITCH  119 

did  not  seem,  except  at  times,  painfully  heartsick 
at  the  delay  of  suitors,  and  was  said  to  have  a 
disposition  that  under  the  circumstances  was,  if 
not  remarkably  good,  not  as  bad  as  some.  In 
time  came  along  Andy  Magraw,  a  Scotchman, 
two  years  younger,  who  by  degrees  offered  him 
self  ;  and  she  took  him  much  as  one,  disappointed 
of  something  dainty  and  hot,  takes  a  cold  potato 
rather  than  go  without  dinner  of  any  sort.  He 
would  have  been  regarded  as  plain  himself  ex 
cept  for  the  advantage  he  held  of  continuous 
comparison.  They  had  one  child ;  but,  a  weak 
ling  from  the  beginning,  it  gave  way  to  the 
season  of  its  first  summer,  and  had  no  successor. 
As  time  went  on,  the  wife,  never  of  a  cheerful 
spirit,  seemed  to  grow  less  and  less  satisfied  with 
surroundings  both  at  home  and  outside  of  it, 
and  learned  to  be  quite  voluble  in  the  use  of 
complaining  words.  This  became  particularly 
so  of  late,  although  she  was  now  sixty  years  old. 
Mrs.  Boddy,  on  the  contrary,  with  an  excel 
lent  beginning,  had  kept  it  up  surprisingly  well. 
She  had  outlasted  two  husbands,  —  stout,  brave 
men  in  their  time,  —  and  now,  the  junior  of 
Mrs.  Magraw  by  only  four  years  or  such  a  mat 
ter,  looked  hardly  fifty.  Not  only  that,  but  the 
bland  smoothness  of  her  cheek,  the  cheery  beam 
ing  of  her  eyes,  the  uniform  tidiness  of  her  dress, 
and  the  cordial  welcome  of  her  voice  and  general 


120  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

manner,  all  made  it  seem  that  she  intended  to  keep 
herself  young  and  agreeable  as  long  as  possible. 

They  were  adjoining  neighbors,  the  Magraws 
living  on  the  first  rise  beyond  the  river,  and  Mrs. 
Boddy  a  mile  farther  up  the  stream,  and  nearly 
opposite  (on  our  side)  Mr.  Johnny  Rainey,  the 
oldest  deacon  in  the  church. 

Mr.  Pate,  who  was  the  first  to  tell  me  this 
story,  showed,  I  thought,  that  much  kind  com 
passion  yet  lingered  in  his  recollection  of  Mrs. 
Magraw. 

"  Why,  sir,  it  looked  like  a  pity  any  female  to 
be  so  unfort'nate  and  inmortal  plain  as  what  she 
were.  They's  a  say  in'  that  pootty  is  only  skin 
deep,  but  ugly  goes  to  the  bone.  It  seem  like 
'ith  Mrs.  Magraw,  the  ugly  in  her  cons' tootion 
went  clean  thoo  and  thoo,  meat,  bone,  sinner, 
and  muscle,  and  kep'  itself  in  every  single  p'int 
of  view  out'ards  and  in'ards,  and  that  she  were 
jes  turned  loose  in  a  flock  by  herself  for  other 
people  to  be  sorry  for  her  that  had  to  look  at 
her.  They  say  she  were  right  toler'ble  mild  and 
biddable  when  she  were  young,  and  even  for  a 
while  arfter  she  got  married,  exceptin'  when  she 
got  mad.  But  somehow  she  begun  to  take  up 
the  notion  that  things  in  gen'l  was  ag'in'  her 
and  gittin'  worse  a  constant.  Yit  she  were  a 
female  of  powerful  sperrit.  She  worked  herself, 
and  she  made  everything  about  her  work. 


OUR   WITCH  121 

<. 

"  People  called  her  a  pincher.  She  pinched 
herself,  and  she  pinched  the  niggers,  and  she 
pinched  her  husband  all  she  could ;  but  who, 
Andy  Magraw,  he,  good,  peaceable  man  if  he 
were,  sometimes  bowed  up  his  back,  and  cussed, 
and  wouldn't.  Some  said  he  were  too  good  and 
leniunt  to  her,  and  if  he'd  take  the  reins  in  his 
own  hand,  and  let  her  understand  as  the  head 
o'  the  family  he  were  goin'  to  keep  'em,  she'd 
swage  down  and  come  reason'ble.  But  one 
thing  I've  noticed  in  my  expe'unce,  and  it's 
that  them  that  think  they  know  how  to  manage 
sech  wives  as  what  Mrs.  Magraw  were  is  them 
that  ain't  got  'em  theirselves.  Andy  Magraw  I 
no  doubt  done  the  best  he  knowed  how  accordin' 
to  the  war'ous  risin's  o'  the  case  before  him,  so 
to  speak.  He  never  talked  ag'in'  her  to  t'other 
people,  and  nobody  daresn't  talk  ag'in'  her 
where  he  were. 

"Now,  as  for  the  poor  'ornan  believin'  in 
witches,  they  was  other  people  in  them  times 
that  done  the  same,  —  that  is,  to  a'  extent,  — 
and  if  anybody  disputed  'em,  they'd  fetch  in 
Scriptur'  to  back  'em  up.  My  own  sip'rate 
opinion  is  that  that  were  a  long  time  ago,  and 
in  a  fur-away  fur'n  country,  where  the  good 
Lord  seemeth  him  meet  to  app'int  'em  for  the 
skearin'  o'  them  hard-head  Izzleites  out  o'  their 
disobedience ;  but  in  these  Nunited  States,  and 


122  OLD   TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

special'  in  as  healthy,  peaceable  country  as  the 
State  o'  Georgie,  it's  not  worth  while  for  people 
to  bother  their  brains  overly  much  about  'em. 
The  stand  my  father  always  took  about  the 
things,  it  were  —  if  you  let  them  alone  and  not 
try  to  locate  'em,  they'd  let  you  alone.  The 
trouble  'ith  Mrs.  Magraw,  she  wouldn't." 

Suspicions,  first  vague,  had  been  lurking  for 
some  time  in  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Magraw.  Feel 
ing  herself  Mrs.  Boddy's  superior  in  every  qual 
ity  except  personal  attractiveness,  she  began  to 
speculate  how  it  was  that  the  cheek  of  a  woman 
not  far  from  being  as  old  as  herself,  survivor  of 
two  husbands,  held,  and  kept  holding,  the  beauty 
of  her  youth.  Instead  of  being  marred  by  mar 
riage  life  and  widowhood,  it  seemed  to  be  im 
proved  by  them  —  specially  the  latter.  Her  gift 
of  resilience  from  the  loss  of  such  companionship 
Mrs.  Magraw  for  a  time  confessed  not  to  under 
stand.  Particularly  within  this  last  gone  year, 
since  Mr.  Boddy  had  been  given  a  place  behind 
the  garden  under  the  cedars  by  the  side  of  his 
predecessor,  the  woman  looked,  and  to  Mrs. 
Magraw's  mind  behaved,  as  if  her  desire  were 
set  upon  going  back  to  the  period  of  youngest 
womanhood,  to  stay  there  forever.  For  all  such 
as  these  Mrs.  Magraw  in  time  judged  the  cause 
to  be  preternatural,  and  so  informed  her  hus 
band.  The  grunt  heard  from  his  breast  made 


OUR   WITCH  123 

her  feel  without  any  doubt  that  the  judgment 
was  correct. 

Visiting  between  these  ladies,  always  rare,  for 
some  time  past  had  ceased.  The  difference  was 
too  great  to  let  either,  particularly  the  elder,  be 
come  fond  of  seeing  or  being  seen  by  the  other. 
Necessarily  they  saw  each  other  on  monthly- 
meeting  Sundays,  and  must  sometimes  be  thrown 
together  going  or  returning.  It  had  been  pain 
ful  always  to  Mrs.  Magraw  that  the  other  was 
so  much  praised  by  all  the  men,  and  even  by 
some  of  the  women  who  were  satisfied  with  their 
own  conditions  and  belongings.  Henceforth  she 
watched  and  brooded,  occasionally  hinting  to 
others  besides  her  husband  the  decision  at  which 
she  had  arrived.  Lately  two  of  the  milch  cows 
on  the  place  suddenly  went  dry,  both  on  the  very 
same  day.  On  the  next  the  horn  of  another  set 
in  to  crumple.  Quickly  thereafter,  a  middle- 
aged  hen,  theretofore  as  steady  and  sure  as  any 
the  most  respectable  of  her  sex,  one  morning,  in 
the  very  middle  of  her  three  weeks'  incubation, 
came  off  the  nest  with  every  feather  ruffled,  and 
no  sort  of  handling  could  make  her  stay  there 
again  when  the  back  of  the  yard  woman  was 
turned,  though  she  repeatedly  put  her  upon  it. 
Finally,  Flower,  a  red-and-white  speckled  calf  of 
extraordinary  promise,  came  under  the  spell. 
Irrational  or  not,  of  all  the  animals  in  the  family, 


124  OLD   TIMES   IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

Mrs.  Magraw's  heart  was  set  on  this  calf.  She 
was  a  very  pink  of  a  calf,  pretty,  shaped  to  per 
fection,  sweet-tempered,  light-hearted  even  to 
frequent  gayety.  Often  and  often,  when  her 
mistress  was  walking  in  the  yard,  wherein  she 
was  let  to  be  petted,  the  dear  little  thing, 
making  a  festoon  of  her  lovely  white  tail,  would 
caper  about  her  mistress  in  all  sorts  of  exuberant 
fun,  occasionally  stopping  immediately  before 
her  and  gazing  into  her  face  apparently  in  great 
admiration  for  it.  One  evening,  while  the  two 
were  in  this  affectionate  attitude  to  each  other, 
the  elder  was  heard  to  say : 

"  Poor  innocent  little  Flower !  Mist'ess  don't 
seem  so  awful  ugly  to  you,  does  she  ?  " 

The  youngling  licked  her  extended  hand, 
and  bounded  away  for  further  sport,  leaving 
the  other  with  a  corner  of  her  apron  to  her 
eyes. 

Now  even  this  favorite,  heretofore  so  cheer 
ful,  so  harmless,  so  full  of  goodly  promise,  was 
noticed  one  day  looking  melancholy.  To  fondest 
caressings  she  gave  no  answer  but  doleful  cries. 
For  four  days  she  dwindled  —  if  with  any  earthly 
disease,  one  impossible  to  be  diagnosed.  On  the 
fifth  she  died.  They  buried  her  in  the  garden. 
A  basket  of  nice  pebbles  was  gathered,  and 
spread  over  her  grave. 

After  a  day  given  up  to  mourning,  of  its  kind 


OUR   WITCH  125 

earnest,  even  distressing,  came  on  dire  resent 
ment.  To  her  husband  Mrs.  Magraw  said : 

"  What  made  me  know  positive  in  my  mind 
it  were  her,  —  about  that  poor  calf  anyhow, 
if  not  the  t'others,  —  when  me  and  her  were 
flung  together  on  the  road  last  meetin'-day,  and 
I  were  obleeged  to  say  somethin'  to  all  her  de 
ceitful  palarver,  and  I  told  her  about  Flower, 
she  looked  at  me  out  of  one  eye,  and  she  smiled 
at  me  insignificant,  and  said  she  hoped  I'd  be 
able  to  raise  her ;  and  the  very  next  day  it  took 
to  drindlin'.  And  if  you  don't  do  somethin' 
about  it,  Andy  Magraw,  I  will.  You  know  I 
can  shoot  a  shot-gun  mighty  nigh  as  well  as  you 
can,  and  I'll  go  to  that  horrid  witch's  cuppen 
and  calf  parscher,  and  I'll  keep  goin'  there  tell 
every  one  of  'em  lays  dead.  What  you  goin'  to 
do,  Andy  Magraw  ?  " 

Mr.  Magraw,  although  feeling  not  quite  sure 
that  occult  evil  influences  had  not  been  among 
the  cattle  and  poultry,  yet  had  no  sort  of  sym 
pathy  with  his  wife's  convictions;  for,  like  other 
men,  he  much  admired  and  respected  Mrs.  Boddy. 
Abundant  experience,  however,  having  taught 
him  that  argument  against  any  opinions  once 
risen  in  his  wife's  mind  served  only  to  fix  them 
more  firmly  therein,  he  briefly  speculated  on 
what  to  do  in  order  to  appease  what  boded 
serious  scandal.  After  some  meditation  he  gave 


126  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

out  that  he  would  try  to  find  out  if  anything 
could  be  done. 

"  In  a  day  or  two  I'll  go  over  there  and  peruse 
around." 

"Yes,  you'll  peruse  around,  and  that's  all 
you'll  do." 

"  Yera  weel,  then ;  I  won't  go." 

"  Yes,  you  will." 

He  uttered  a  grunt,  and  went  out. 

Brief  and  inarticulate  as  was  this  response, 
Mrs.  Magraw  knew  very  well  that  it  contained 
more  meaning  than  some  other  men's  multitudes 
of  words.  So  when  he  returned  he  found  that 
she  had  moderated ;  for  daring  and  unreasonable 
as  she  had  become,  she  must  recognize,  if  she 
did  not  respect,  the  sentiment  of  the  community 
that  it  was  not  becoming  for  a  married  woman 
to  move  in  public  with  no  co-operation  of  her 
husband  in  matters  threatening  collisions  with 
outsiders.  The  heaviest  complaint  that  her  mind 
had  ever  lodged  against  him  was  his  persistent, 
doggedly  obstinate  refusal  to  quarrel  with  her. 
One  day  her  disgust  for  his  weakness  on  this 
line  had  driven  her  to  say : 

"  Andy  Magraw,  it  do  seem  to  me  that  when 
you  was  very  born,  they  come  mighty  nigh 
a-makin'  you  a  fool." 

"  Fool !  Why,  Nancy-,"  he  answered  meekly, 
"  it's  the  vera  name  I  answer  to." 


OUR   WITCH  127 

And  her  reply  was  :  "  Goodness  gracious  !  To 
think  a  man  would  be  satisfied  with  them  con 
ditions  !  I  wish  I  was  one  of  'em." 

"  Umph,  umph !  We  never  knaw  about  sic 
things/' 

After  another  day's  rumination,  the  while 
making  a  quiet  visit  to  the  old  man  Rainey, 
which  he  did  not  mention  to  her,  next  morning, 
getting  himself  up  with  some  smartness,  he 
remarked  that  he  was  going  to  call  upon  Mrs. 
Boddy.  The  little  confidence  of  his  wife  was 
somewhat  enhanced  when,  taking  down  his  rifle 
from  its  forks,  he  loaded  and  shouldered  it. 

Noting  his  approach,  the  rosy  widow  despatched 
her  house-girl  to  gather  in  the  garden  a  handful 
of  mint.  By  the  time  the  usual  greetings,  neigh 
borly  questionings  and  answerings,  and  a  few 
remarks  on  the  weather  were  over,  there  was 
handed  to  the  visitor  a  tumbler,  of  the  size  they 
had  in  those  days,  brimming  with  a  julep  of  a 
savor  whose  better  neither  eye  nor  nostril  nor 
throat  of  man  was  ever  regaled  with.  Under 
the  influence  of  this  king  (or  queen,  as  the  case 
may  be)  of  Southern  potations,  whatever  remon- 
stration  might  have  been  on  Mr.  Magraw's  mind 
even  to  hint  sneaked  out  and  tried  to  hide  behind 
his  back.  He  was  not  an  intemperate  man  at 
all.  Yet  from  his  ancestors  he  had  inherited 
quick  recognition  of  a  good  thing,  and  prompt- 


128  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

ness  of  acceptance  when  thus  graciously  ex 
tended.  As  he  sat  and  sipped,  Mrs.  Boddy, 
who  merely  for  the  sake  of  added  grace  to  her 
hospitality  had  joined  him  in  a  glass  smaller 
and  paler,  seemed  to  him  to  float  in  a  very  lake 
of  loveliest  innocence.  When  these  cheering 
rites  were  over,  and  some  moments  had  passed 
in  waiting  announcement  of  the  special  purport 
of  the  call,  the  lady,  smiling  kindly,  said : 

"  Mr.  Magraw,  of  course  I  know  what  your 
wife  sent  you  here  for.  Mrs.  Magraw  has  been 
talking  and  making  her  insinuations  about  me 
for  a  good  while.  I've  stood  it  because  I  knewed 
she  couldn't  stop  her  mouth  any  more  than  she 
could  help  some  other  things  she's  got.  I  never 
had  anything  more  to  do  with  her  home  matters 
and  concerns  than  she's  had  to  do  with  mine  — 
that  is,  as  I  know  of ;  and  as  for  being  the  witch 
she  tells  people  I  am,  it's  all  news  to  me,  and,  of 
course,  I  some  rathers  she'd  stop  it." 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Boddy,"  he  answered,  with  up 
lifted  hand,  "  I  dunn  —  I  —  I  —  Mrs.  Boddy  — 
ye  —  ye  knaw — a  man  canna  say  anything  ag'in' 
his  ain  —  I  knaw  weel  ye're  na  witch,  but  I  canna 
—  canna  —  " 

His  tone  and  manner  were  so  entirely  what  a 
good  man's  should  be  in  the  circumstances  that 
she  was  deeply  sensible  of  them,  and,  interrupt 
ing  him,  said : 


OUR  WITCH  129 

"  You're  perfectly  right,  Mr.  Magraw.  No 
good  man  will  open'  take  sides  against  his  own 
wife.  It  is  nothing.  Let  it  go.  I  don't  think 
anybody  is  apt  to  take  me  for  the  thing  she 
names  me ;  and  now  I  see  how  it  pains  you,  I'm 
going  to  try  and  not  let  it  trouble  me  any  more. 
It  hasn't  but  mighty  little.  I  think  it  must  be 
Mrs.  Magraw's  health.  I'm  glad  to  see  you 
looking  so  well,  Mr.  Magraw." 

He  gave  himself  a  nervous  shake;  then,  rising, 
said : 

"Mrs.  Boddy,  I  —  thank  ye,  ma'am.  I  think 
mysel'  somethin'  may  be  wrang  wi'  Nancy,  and 
—  and — I  bid  ye  guid  day,  Mrs.  Boddy." 

He  went  away,  trailing  his  rifle  as  if  he  were 
ashamed  of  it. 

"Good  man,"  soliloquized  Mrs.  Boddy  —  "the 
best,  the  very  best,  in  all  this  neighborhood  — 
not  hardly  except'  old  Brother  Rainey  —  spite 
of  being  yoked  to  a  woman  that  of  all  in  this 
world  I  do  suppose  is  the  sorrowfullest,  ugliest, 
the  foolishest,  suspiciousest,  the  backbitingest, 
mouthiest,  and  the  general  beatingest,  that  — 
may  the  good  Lord  have  mercy  on  us  all  poor 
sinners  !  Amen,  I  pray  !  " 

When  Mr.  Magraw,  upon  returning,  reported 
such  incidents  of  the  visit  as  he  deemed  prudent, 
his  mate  broke  out  upon  him  with  words  of  which 
the  following  are  a  few: 


130  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

"Yes;  it's  perfect  cle'r  that  thing  have  witched 
you  too,  Andy  Magraw.  You  never  was  a  man 
that  could  tackle  with  women,  exceptin'  of  me, 
that  can't  help  herself ;  and  I  can  smell  on  you 
this  minute  the  mint-dram  she  give  you,  that 
before  you  got  to  the  gate  I  see  you  tryin'  to 
blow  off  the  scent  of  it  on  your  hat  and  on  your 
coat-sleeve.  If  such  as  that  is  to  go  on,  they'd 
as  well  begin  to  season  the  lumber  for  my  coffin. 
But  I  tell  you  now,  Andy  Magraw,  it  shan't  go 
on !  She  may  witch  you  in  the  bargain  of  them 
poor  dumb  cattle,  but  she  don't  tromple  on  me 
no  furder.  You  hear  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  now,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  Pate,  "  good, 
patient  man  if  he  were,  Andy  Magraw  couldn't 
always  stand  her  mouth.  And  so  he  told  her 
plain  down  that  Mrs.  Boddy  weren't  no  more  a 
witch  than  she  were,  and  he  add  that  maybe  the 
reason  he  want  to  got  shet  o'  the  julip,  it  were 
he  were  afeard,  when  the  scent  struck  her,  it 
might  make  her  yit  hotter  with  Mrs.  Boddy  for 
bein'  more  liber'l  than  what  she  were  in  the 
mixin'  of  her  sperrits  and  sugar,  and  the  dividin' 
with  other  people.  Because  she  were  knew  to 
love  the  article  well  as  Andy,  albe'  nobody  ever 
accused  her  of  knockin'  it  too  heavy.  My 
expe'unce  is,  mighty  few  people  make  ser'ous 
objection  to  a  julip  in  its  place,  when  people 
that  makes  'em  know  what  they're  about,  which 


OUR  WITCH  131 

all  don't,  unfort'nate,  and  some  may  push  the 
use  of  'em  to  a  too  much  extents.  But  them 
words  of  Andy  made  her  ravin'  mad,  and  she 
declared  that  if  the  good  Lord  have  made  her  a 
man  —  that  he,  unfort'nate,  didn't  —  she'd  raise 
thunder  quicker'n  ever  run  down  a  skinned 
poplar.  Did  anybody  ever !  And  she  said  that 
the  very  next  mornin',  soon  as  her  breakfast 
she  would  git,  on  her  head  her  bonnet  it  would 
go,  on  her  horse  she  would  mount,  and  then 
ride  about  'mong  the  neighbors,  a-forewarnin' 
of  'em  ag'in'  the  witch,  Polly  Boddy.  What  you 
think  Andy  Magraw  done  then  ?  He  determ'ed 
in  his  mind  that  it  were  absolute  necessity  for 
the  old  man  Kainey  to  take  a  hand  in  the  busi 
ness,  him  bein'  the  onl'est  man  in  the  whole 
neighborhood  she  were  afeard  of,  because  it 
were  him  that  persuaded  the  brothern  to  let  her 
in  the  church  when  they  hizzitated  about  her  high 
temper  and  the  freckwent  sloshin'  of  her  tongue. 
He  argied  that  if  she  didn't  quite  have  grace, 
it  might  come  to  her  arfter  she  were  took  in. 
Of  course  Andy  couldn't  go  in,  because  o'  his 
cussin'  sometimes,  which  he  never  denied.  And 
so  Andy,  a-knowin'  she  wouldn't  take  his  ad 
vices,  sot  in,  he  did,  to  beggin'  her  to  not 
fetch  the  thing  up  in  the  church,  and  special' 
not  to  go  to  the  old  man  Rainey  about  it.  Fact 
is,  Andy  Magraw  were  one  o'  the  sensiblest  men 


132  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

they  had  in  them  days,  spite  o'  bein'  surrounded 
with  sech  a  wife.  The  old  man  Rainey  were 
the  oldest  and  influentialest  man  in  the  church, 
and  Andy  Magraw  knewed  that  if  anybody 
could  head  her  in  her  ravin'  course  it  were  the 
old  man  Rainey." 

The  praise  of  Mr.  Pate  had  good  foundation. 
Immediately  after  the  utterance  of  Mr.  Magraw's 
urgent  remonstrance,  his  wife,  becoming  calm, 
looked  at  him  pitifully  and  said : 

"  Well,  Andy  Magraw,  I  do  think,  on  my 
soul,  you're  the  poorest  hand  to  help  out  and 
give  advice  to  a  body  in  the  suffering  fix  I'm 
in  that  ary  poor  woman  ever  took  up  with  for 
a  husband  in  this  lonesome,  perishing  world. 
Why,  man,  sence  you  mention  it,  it's  the  very 
thing  for  me  to  do ;  and  I'm  a-goin'  straight 
over  to  Br'er  Rainey's  if  my  life  is  spar'd  tell 
to-morrow." 

He  nodded  in  humble  disappointment,  and 
after  dinner,  resuming  his  rifle,  remarked  that 
he  believed  he  would  go  out  and  see  if  he  could 
not  find  a  hawk.  Returning  in  the  evening 
with  the  body  of  one  of  these  enemies  of  the 
barn-yard,  he  was  comforted  to  see  her  in 
reasonable  placidity  of  mood,  in  which  she  re 
mained  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Everybody  said  that  Uncle  Johnny  Rainey 
had  a  long  head,  which  he  used  for  his  own 


OUR   WITCH  133 

good  and  that  of  his  neighbors,  particularly 
those  belonging  to  the  congregation  of  his 
church.  In  the  half-century  of  his  diaconate 
he  had  settled  a  greater  number  of  difficulties 
and  disputes,  doctrinal,  social,  and  domestic,  than 
any  other  one  man  in  his  generation  throughout 
that  whole  region.  Calm  and  conciliatory,  but 
confident,  firm,  even  adroit  when  needed,  he 
kept  his  near  a  thousand  fellow-members  in  all 
possible  harmony.  The  case  of  Mrs.  Magraw 
had  long  been  in  his  mind,  and  he  was  not 
surprised  at  the  coming  of  its  climax.  On 
her  approach,  he  met  her  at  the  gate,  helped 
her  to  dismount,  and  led  her  into  the  piazza, 
where  he  had  instructed  his  wife,  after  a  few 
words  of  welcome  salutation,  to  leave  them 
together.  When  all  preliminaries  were  over, 
and  Mrs.  Eainey  on  polite  pretence  withdrew, 
the  good  man  began  to  talk.  He  well  judged 
that  it  was  best  for  him  to  take  the  initiative. 
As  for  his  supplies  of  words,  whether  at  con 
ference  meetings  or  other  occasions,  inexhaustible 
is  hardly  the  word ;  yet  with  this  single  hearer 
he  deemed  a  couple  of  hours  enough  for  his 
purpose. 

"  Sister  Magraw,"  he  began,  "  my  mind  —  I 
don't  know  as  you  may  know  it,  but  my  mind 
jes  here  lately  it  have  been  a-runnin'  consider'ble 
on  witches,  and  I  been  a-studyin'  up  the  subjects 


134  OLD  TIMES   IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

of  'em,  from  the  witch  o'  Endor  down  till  now 
that  they  seem  to  be  a  sispicion  that  they  is  one, 
and  maybe  two,  in  the  Jukesborough  Bap t is' 
cong'egation." 

"Two,  Br'er  Rainey?"  Mrs.  Magraw,  shud 
dering,  asked. 

"  Come,  Sister  Magraw,  don't  put  in  and  inter- 
rup'  me.  Yes,  one ;  maybe  two ;  and  if  the  thing 
ain't  stopped,  no  tellin'  how  many  more.  Now, 
you  know  —  if  you  don't,  I'll  tell  you  —  that  the 
onl'est  way,  when  oncet  a  witch  were  caught,  and 
pine-blank  proved  —  the  onl'est  way  laid  down 
for  her  was  to  burn  her  up  bodaciously.  That 
have  been  done  in  time,  more  or  less ;  yit  from 
what  I  could  gether  in  my  readin'  o'  hist'ry, 
them  that  done  it  was  sorry  they  done  it  arfter 
the  thing  blowed  over,  a-feelin'  jub'ous  in  their 
mind  if  they  didn't  act  hasty  about  the  takin' 
in  o'  evidence.  In  my  own  mind  —  that  is,  in 
what  mind  the  good  Lord,  for  useful  purpose,  I 
humble  hope,  he  have  merciful  putt  in  here  — 
right  in  here" — thankfully  tapping  his  fore 
head  with  a  forefinger  —  "  my  opinion,  as  no 
longer  than  day  before  yisterday  I  told  Sister 
Boddy,  that  I  didn't  believe  they  was  a  witch 
in  the  whole  State  o'  Georgie,  and  special'  in  the 
cong'egation  where  I  been  app'inted  deacon  by 
the  reg'lar  layin'  on  o'  hands  accord  in'  to  the 
Scriptur' ;  and  I  added  to  Sister  Boddy  that  ef, 


OUR   WITCH  135 

for  instance,  she,  Sister  Polly  Boddy,  was  to 
fetch  up  in  conf'ence, —  I  didn't  name  names 
plain  and  open  p'inted  as  some  does,  —  but  ef  she 
was  to  fetch  up  ary  'nother  female  o'  the  con- 
g'egation  for  bein'  of  a  witch,  and  then  couldn't 
prove  it  to  the  satisfaction  o'  the  brothern,  — 
which  they  is  no  doubt  she  couldn't,  —  then  and 
in  them  case  she  might  possible  be  turned  out 
herself,  and,  what's  more,  run  the  resk  o'  bein' 
sued  for  slander  and  scandal  by  the  said  female 
sister,  and  have  her  plantation  and  the  very 
house  over  her  head  took  for  damage.  Now,  as 
for  the  dryin'  up  of  milch  cows,  and  the  drindlin' 
o'  calves,  what  I  told  Sister  Boddy  of  my  ex- 
pe'unce,  it  were  that  ever  sence  I  could  'member, 
and  long  before,  milch  cows  and  calves  and  settin' 
hens  been  doin'  them  things  when  the  time  for 
'em  come  for  doin'  o'  'em,  like  the  Scriptur'  say 
they's  a  time  for  all  things." 

About  thus  on,  on,  and  on  he  discoursed,  occa 
sionally  turning  to  note  upon  the  listener's  face 
the  effect  of  his  words.  It  was  plain  to  see  that 
they  were  going  straight  home.  She  shuddered 
both  at  the  intimation  clearly  conveyed  that  she 
herself  was  suspected  by  Mrs.  Boddy  of  witch 
craft,  and  at  the  risk  of  being  sued  by  her  for 
words  already  spoken  to  many  persons.  When 
at  last  Mr.  Rainey  saw  that  he  could  safely  stop, 
he  did  so,  and  looked  benignly  into  her  face. 


136  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

"  Br'er  Rainey,"  she  said,  panting,  but  in  a 
low  tone,  "  I  didn't  know  any  of  Polly  Boddy's 
milch  cows  had  dried  up,  nor  any  of  her 
calves  - 

"  There !  Of  course  you  didn't.  I  knowed 
you  didn't ;  and  you  had  no  more  to  do  with 
'em  than  I  did,  which  of  course  I  couldn't,  not 
bein'  of  a  female.  And  it  all  come,  like  sech 
always  in  gen'l  does,  from  neighbors  not  under- 
standin'  one  'nother  better,  and  makin'  'lowances 
for  nobody  bein'  perfec'.  Is  there  anything  on 
your  mind,  Sister  Magraw,  you  wanted  to  open 
to  me  special'  ?  " 

"  N-no,  Br'er  Rainey ;  not  now.  My  mind 
has  been  pestered  a  good  deal  here  lately ;  but 
—  but  I  reckon  maybe  I'm  mistaken.  But  if 
Polly  Boddy  think  —  oh,  my  Lord,  Br'er  Rainey, 
what  is  a  poor  woman  to  do  like  me,  that  no 
body  ever  did  keer  anything  for  her,  excepting 
of  you  ?  " 

The  old  man,  calling  in  his  wife,  set  in  with 
words  of  comfort,  the  latter  holding  her  hand. 
It  was  an  easy  task.  Tears  long  buried  at 
length  came  in  her  eyes.  When  she  was  slowly 
riding  away,  Mr.  Rainey  said : 

"  Poor  woman !  my  opinion  is,  the  clirnak 
have  come  on  her,  and  I  'm  thankful  it  ain't  of 
the  ravin'  kind.  Me  and  Sister  Boddy  thought 
that  were  the  best  way  to  swage  her  down  — 


OUR   WITCH  137 

bein'  took  for  a  witch  herself.  But  I  tell  you 
now,  she  ain't  long  for  this  world." 

I  let  Mr.  Pate  tell  the  rest  in  his  own  way. 

"  Old  man  Rainey  were  right.  It  come  out 
that  the  poor  creetur'  were  out  her  head.  The 
doctor  said  she  been  so  ev'y  sence  her  baby  died, 
but  he  never  told  nobody  but  old  man  Rainey, 
because  tellin'  wouldn't  do  the  case  no  good. 
Soon  as  she  got  home,  'ithout  say  in'  a  word  to  a 
soul,  smilin'  to  ev'ybody  said  anything  to  her, 
she  went  to  bed.  Andy  Magraw  put  a  nigger 
on  a  horse  and  told  him  not  to  spar'  him  gal- 
lopin'  for  the  doctor.  He  say  —  the  doctor  say 
—the  egzitement  about  Mrs.  Boddy  have  been 
too  much  for  her  head,  and  it  have  now  struck 
her  heart.  And  he  told  Andy  Magraw  to  pre- 
par'  his  mind,  and  that  she  weren't  goin'  to  git 
out  that  bed  alive.  And  what  time  she  lasted 
she  were  perfec'  calm  and  biddable,  and  she 
talked  pleasant  about  people  and  things  forty 
and  fifty  year  before.  And  when  she  give  out 
final,  they  said  it  were  same  as  a  little  baby 
goin'  to  sleep  in  a  cradle.  And  if  anybody 
ever  see  a  man  cry  and  go  on  about  a  dead 
companion,  it  were  that  same  Andy  Magraw. 
And  that's  the  end  o'  the  tale  about  the 
witch." 

I  felt  much  surprise  at  a  finish  so  unusually 
abrupt.  Evidently  Mr.  Pate  had  anticipated  it. 


138  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

After  a  brief  pause,  looking  down  into  my  un 
satisfied  face,  he  said : 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?    What  more  you  want  ?  " 

I  ventured  to  ask  what  became  of  them  after 
ward. 

"  Of  who  ?  "  he  asked,  in  teasing  delay  —  "  of 
Andy  Magraw  or  Mrs.  Boddy  ?  " 

"  Of  both." 

"What  you  think?  Now,  jes  on  a  ventur', 
what  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  think  they  got  married." 

"  There,  now  !  Ain't  it  astonishin'  how  yearly 
young  boys  their  mind'll  begin  to  run  on 
marryin'  ?  But  I  s'pose  they  can't  he'p  it,  bein' 
of  their  natur'.  Well,  I'll  answer  your  quest'on. 
Look  like  they  ought  to  get  married,  don't  it  ? 
Plantations  j'inin',  even  their  very  geese  gittin' 
everlastin'  mixed.  Ev'ybody  looked  for  it,  same 
as  the  sun  a-risin'  of  a  mornin'.  As  for  the  old 
man  Rainey,  he  told  'em  both,  look  like  to  him 
the  good  Lord  have  jes  paved  the  way  for  'em ; 
and  they  weren't  any  doubts  but,  soon  as  it 
were  decent,  the  widder  sot  her  cap  for  him. 
But,  sir,  —  and  there  were  the  interestest  part  o' 
the  whole  business,  —  Andy  Magraw  took  up 
the  idee  that  maybe  it  were  his  fau't  his  poor 
wife  gittin'  so  discontented  and  crazy  in  her 
mind,  and  nobody  —  not  even  the  old  man 
Rainey  —  could  git  him  to  go  a-nigh  Mrs.  Boddy, 


OUR   WITCH  139 

albe'  he  acknowledged  he  loved  her  dear.  They 
is  people  o'  that  kind,  and  I  has  heerd  readin' 
people  say  that  of  all  denomination  of  folks,  a 
Scotmon  is  the  stickiest  about  hangin'  to  a'  idee 
that  have  oncet  settled  itself  in  the  back  o'  his 
head.  Some  said  he  were  crazy  as  his  poor  wife 
not  to  take  up  with  sech  a'  opporchunity  as  Mrs. 
Boddy  —  that  she  were  only  waitin'  for  him  to 
name  the  word.  And  some  even  add  the  opinion 
of  him  a-sispicionin'  her  bein'  a  witch  like  his 
poor  wife  'cused  her.  As  for  her,  Mrs.  Boddy, 
she  got  tired  a-waitin'  for  him,  and  she  whirled 
in,  she  did,  and  she  got  married  spite  of  him, 
and  that  to  a  monst'ous  good,  suitable  husband. 
You  know,  havin'  the  expe'unce  o'  two  of  'em, 
she  have  learnt  to  know  how  to  pick  and  choose. 
But  she  always  said  Andy  Magraw  were  as  good 
a  man  as  ever  lived  or  died,  and  other  people 
give  their  opinion  the  same.  But,  don't  you 
know,  soon  arfter  she  got  married  seem  like  he 
got  more  and  more  restless  and  fidgety  in  his 
mind  and  in  his  gaits  in  gen'l,  and  'tweren't 
long  before  he  sold  out  and  moved  away- 
clean  away  —  back  yonder  where  he  come  from 
original'." 


WEASELS   ON   A  DEBAUCH 


WEASELS  ON  A  DEBAUCH 

FROM  childhood  to  his  death  when  quite  an 
old  man  he  was  called  Little  Len  Cane.  Little 
in  physical  stature,  his  thoughts  had  been  ever 
mainly  of  little  things.  It  would  not  have  em 
barrassed  him  to  be  asked  and  to  have  to  answer 
that  he  did  not  know  who  was  governor  of  the 
state,  or  who  the  presiding  judge  in  that  judicial 
district,  because  he  cared  nothing  about  such 
matters.  He  never  had  had  any  curiosity  to  see 
even  the  city  of  Augusta,  at  which  any  man  of 
respectable  standing  in  Middle  Georgia,  during 
that  period  (sixty  years  ago),  would  have  been 
rather  ashamed  to  acknowledge  that  he  had 
never  been  for  at  least  one  time.  What  had 
been  interesting  him  chiefly  from  earliest  child 
hood  were  the  lower  animals,  and  the  lower 
among  these,  especially  such  as  were  good  to  eat 
but  difficult  to  get,  and  such  as  were  troublesome. 
Not  that  he  was  fond  of  game  for  himself,  or 
ever  owned  any  property  to  be  molested  by  nox 
ious  things.  Plain  bread  and  meat  with  coffee 

143 


144  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

three  times  a  day  were  all  he  wanted.  But  he 
liked  to  accommodate  not  only  the  family  of  his 
brother  Ausbon,  with  whom,  after  the  death  of 
his  parents,  he  dwelt,  but  the  few  neighbors  with 
whom  he  was  familiar.  For  these  he  hunted 
duck  and  fish  in  the  mill-pond  near  by,  and 
squirrels  and  other  game  among  the  bordering 
woods.  So  well  he  had  learned  their  habits  that 
it  was  impossible  to  escape  from  his  search.  If 
any  woman  in  the  community,  although  not 
among  his  particular  friends,  was  sick,  and  ex 
pressed  a  desire  for  game,  her  family  knew  where 
it  could  be  gotten  with  absolute  certainty.  If 
it  was  fish,  all  the  invalid  had  to  do,  was  to 
specify  the  kind,  say  sucker,  cat-fish,  eel,  or  perch, 
and  if  the  latter,  whether  bream,  silver,  or  red- 
belly.  For  to  him  were  familiar  the  retreats  of 
all,  and  the  art  to  capture  them. 

So  it  was  in  regard  to  plunderers  of  home 
steads  among  these  lower  animals.  No  hawk 
ever  invaded  the  poultry-yard  of  his  sister-in-law. 
There  wasn't  one  in  that  whole  region  that  knew 
not  better  than  do  such  as  that.  Similarly  pru 
dent  were  minks,  weasels,  rats,  and  chicken- 
snakes.  A  reasonable  number  of  mice  might 
circulate  about  the  corn-crib,  partly  because 
what  they  consumed  was  hardly  missed,  and 
partly  to  satisfy  invaders  which,  grown  desper 
ate  by  the  absolute  dearth  of  booty  there,  might 


WEASELS   ON  A  DEBAUCH  145 

resort  to  the  hen-house,  whereat,  although  des 
tined  to  certain  seizure  and  punishment  after 
wards,  they  might  inflict  damage  which  it  would 
cost  pain  and  some  trouble  to  repair. 

He  never  boasted  of  his  accomplishments,,  un 
less  so  might  be  regarded  an  expression  of  some 
little  impatience  with  people  who,  instead  of  com 
ing  to  him  in  order  to  find  out  what  they  ought 
to  have  found  out  for  themselves  about  matters 
pertaining  to  their  own  well-being,  concerned 
themselves  about  governors,  and  judges,  and 
politics,  and  such  things  which  in  his  opinion 
they  had  not  one  single  grain  of  use  for  under 
the  sun.  Perhaps  there  might  have  been  a  little 
vanity  in  carrying  about  with  him  one  or  other 
trophy  won  by  creek  or  woodland.  Occasionally 
he  wore  a  mink-skin  cap  with  eel-skin  band, 
he  picked  the  touch-hole  of  his  long,  single- 
barrel  shot-gun  with  the  tusk  of  a  cat-fish,  and 
what  little  moneys  he  had  were  kept  in  a 
purse  which  once  had  been  upon  the  back  of 
a  weasel. 

When  I  was  a  child  I  used  to  listen  with 
much  interest  to  old  Mr.  Pate,  who  had  known 
Little  Len  well,  and  who  was  fond  of  relating 
incidents  in  his  history. 

"He  weren't,  Little  Len  weren't,"  he  often 
said,  "  no,  in  what  people  in  general  call 
smart.  Len  weren't  smart  that  way,  not  a  bit. 


146  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

When  his  parrents  first  sent  him  to  school,  he 
couldn't,  or  he  jes'  wouldn't,  learn  about  books, 
no  matter  how  heavy  the  schoolmarster  putt 
the  hick'ry  on  him.  'Stead  of  that,  Len  would 
be  watchin',  even  in  the  schoolhouse,  how  to 
catch  flies  and  things  on  the  sly,  and  outside 
he'd  be  studying  about  pisants,  and  yaller- 
jackets,  and  bumble-bees,  and  lizzards,  and  sap- 
suckers,  and  even  doodles,  and  things  nobody 
else  ever  keered  much  about,  and  all,  it  seem 
like,  jes'  for  cur'osity.  Why,  sir,  he  could  call  a 
doodle  out  of  his  hole  quicker,  and  with  fewer 
words  and  less  noise,  than  any  boy  I  ever  see. 
And  so  final  they  let  him  quit  school ;  and  if  he 
never  did,  and  always  wouldn't,  do  any  reg'lar 
work,  yit  he  were  always  a  useful  little  fellow  in 
the  family  in  one  way  and  another,  helpin'  to  take 
keer  of  things,  special  weakly  little  young  an 
imals, —  except  babies,  and  them  never  would 
he  even  tech  when  he  could  help  it.  In 
things  like  that  and  keepin'  off  prowlers  of  all 
kind  he  were  the  smartest  man  I  ever  know, 
if  a  body  could  call  a  man  one  that  in  some 
respect  were  so  little  of  a  man.  And  as  for 
marryin'  and  havin'  a  wife,  I've  heerd  him 
acknowledge  many  time  that  sech  a  idee  never 
come  into  his  head." 

Among  many  things  related  by  the  old  man 
was   the    following,    as    on   a   morning  in   the 


WEASELS   ON  A   DEBAUCH  147 

summer  we  were  sitting  in  the  piazza  of  Hines's 
store,  on  the  roadside,  at  the  foot  of  our  grove. 

"  To  show  you  how  smart  Len  were,  I'll  tell 
you  about  him  and  the  weasels,  which  I  never 
laid  eyes  on  the  things  but  once  in  my  life, 
and  wouldn't  done  it  then,  exceptin'  for  that 
same  Len  Cane.  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  see 
my  wife  (my  first  wife,  I  mean)  —  in  fact,  I  jes' 
am  certain  in  my  mind  I  never  see  her  madder 
than  one  mornin'  when,  goin'  into  the  hen-house 
to  look  arfter  some  settin'  hens,  she  found  six  of 
'em  stretched  out  dead  on  the  ground.  She 
called  me  to  come  there  quick,  and  when  I 
see  the  destruction  of  the  varmint,  I  jes'  couldn't 
keep  from  cussin',  which,  hadn't  been  she  were 
so  mad  herself  she'd  a-scolded  strong;  for  she 
were  a  honest,  good  Christian  woman,  and  no 
mistake.  And  then  she  asked  me  in  a  loud 
tone  of  voice,  '  Mr.  Pate,  why  don't  those  men, 
you  among  them,  sometimes,  that  hunt  foxes 
that  do  little  or  no  harm,  with  their  hounds  and 
horns,  why  don't  you  go  to  killing  off  them 
varmints  that  are  the  very  oudaciousest,  tor- 
mentingest  things  that  women  have  to  putt  up 
with  in  all  this  troublesome  world  ? '  Well,  I 
had  to  answer  well  as  I  could ;  for  you  know,  or 
if  you  don't  now,  when  you  get  big  enough,  you 
will  know,  they  isn't  much  fun  in  the  huntin'  of 
minks.  For  the  things  is  that  sly,  if  you  actuil 


148  OLD   TIMES   IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

see  one  run  in  his  hole,  and  you  dig  for  him,  ten 
chances  to  one  when  you  git  to  the  bottom,  he 
ain't  there." 

Interesting  to  me  as  was  the  circumstantial 
account  of  the  old  man,  I  must  repeat  here  only 
a  brief  portion.  It  was  then  according  to  the 
narrator  that  Mrs.  Pate,  whose  wrath  had  no 
notion  of  subsiding,  declared  that  she  would 
send  for  Len  Cane.  Len  liked  well  that  excel 
lent  woman,  and  was  even  very  grateful  to  her 
for  the  help  given  by  her  during  a  long  spell  of 
sickness  which  he  had  had  several  years  ago,  and 
so  Len  responded  promptly  to  her  call.  After 
minute  inspection  of  the  bodies  of  the  dead,  and 
a  scrutinizing  survey  of  the  ground  inside  and 
for  some  rods  that  outside  the  hen-house,  they 
repaired  to  the  mansion  where  a  colloquy  oc 
curred,  a  scrap  of  which,  as  I  recall  it,  I  will 
give. 

Len.  Bad  piece  o'  business.  What  you  think 
it  were,  Missis  Pate  ? 

Mrs.  Pate.  Why,  a  mink,  of  course.  Why, 
didn't  our  children  day  before  yesterday  see  one 
run  in  his  l^ole  in  a  bank  on  the  spring-branch, 
and  didn't  I  tell  Mr.  Pate  about  it,  and  didn't 
he  say  he  jest  as  well  go  look  for  a  needle  in  a 
fodder  stack,  and  you  see  the  consequences  of  it 
all  ?  Been  a  fox,  they'd  a  been  have  a  dozen 
hounds  in  less  than  a  hour,  and  enough  hurraing 


WEASELS   ON   A   DEBAUCH  149 

and  yelping  and  blowing  of  horns  to  deaf  a 
body's  ears. 

Len.  Yes,  ma'am,  they'll  hunt  things  they 
know  is  no  manner  o'  use  to  kill  or  to  eat,  and 
they'll  let  go  free  them  that'll  do  more  'struction 
in  one  night  than  a  fox'll  do  in  his  whole  life 
time.  Still,  Missis  Pate,  Mr.  Pate  needn't  dug 
for  that  mink.  Time  he'd  got  or  thought  he'd 
got  to  the  bottom  o'  his  hole,  that  mink  might 
o'  got  out  and  made  his  way  across  the  spring- 
branch  half  way  to  Fulsom's  Creek.  But  did 
you  think  it  were  that  mink  killed  them  hens, 
Mr.  Pate  ? 

Mr.  Pate.  I  hain't  a  doubt  about  it,  Len, 
nary  blessed  doubt,  him  or  some  other  one  of  the 
specie. 

Len.  Well,  it  weren't  that  one,  nor  none  of 
the  specie  that  done  it,  onlest  you  may  call  a 
weasel  so  ;  for  that's  what  done  it. 

Mr.  Pate.  A  weasel  ?  I've  heard  o'  the 
things  ;  but  I  never  see  one  in  all  my  born  days. 
Ain't  you  mistaken,  Len  ? 

Len.  No  mistake  about  it.  It  were  a  weasel. 
They  ain't  plentiful  about  this  kind  of  a  lat'chude, 
a  bein'  of  a  varmint  which  a  body  can  see,  from 
their  fur,  that  roams  in  countries  where  its 
colder  than  we  has  among  us  here.  They'r  a 
sca'ce  creatur',  and  they'r  so  shy  and  dodgy 
that  it  ain't  easy  to  come  up  with  'em.  It  took 


150  OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

me,  I  don't  know  how  long  it  took  me  to  find 
out  their  ways.  But  I  done  it  at  last,  and  it 
bein'  Missis  Pate  that  wants  it  done,  I'm  a  goin' 
to  ketch  this  one  for  her,  a  knowin'  she  like  no 
sich  'struction  about  her  among  things  she  raise 
herself. 

Mr.  Pate.  That's  right,  Len ;  go  it.  I'll  do 
what  I  can ;  I've  got  six  as  good  hounds  as  the 
next  man,  I  don't  care  who  he  is. 

Len.  Can't  be  done  to-day,  Mr.  Pate.  It's  too 
late  now,  and  besides,  we've  got  to  fix  for  him 
the  next  time  he  come  ;  for  he's  shore  to  come 
ag'in.  When  he  come  ag'in  and  have  got  drunk, 
if  you'll  send  for  me  promp',  we'll  git  him. 

Mr.  Pate.     Drunk  ?  Did  you  say  drunk,  Len  ? 

Len.     Yes,  sir,  drunk  were  the  words  I  said. 

Mr.  Pate.  Come,  Len,  none  of  your  projickin'. 
I'm  not  a  man,  —  and  I  think  you  ought  to  know 
I'm  not  a  man —  to  be  projicked  with  and  fooled 
with. 

Mrs.  Pate.  Laws,  Mr.  Pate.  Don't  you  sup 
pose  Len  know  what  he's  a  talking  about? 
What  else  made  me  send  for  him  ?  I  know  he 
ain't  a  wanting  to  fool  when  he  see  how  tore  up 
my  feelings  is  about  them  hens.  Go  on,  Len. 
You  say  the  things  gits  drunk  ? 

Len.  That  they  do,  Missis  Pate,  and  if 
things  is  done  like  I  say,  next  time  that  weasel 
come  here  and  you  send  for  me  next  mornin', 


WEASELS   ON  A  DEBAUCH  151 

soon  you'll  see  with  your  own  eyes  if  what  I  tell 
you  ain't  so,  and  he'd  a  cut  the  throats  of  more 
of  'em  last  night  if  he  hadn't  got  drunk  and 
found  he  had  to  take  hisself  away  or  git 
caught. 

Mrs.  Pate.  My  sakes  alive !  I  didn't  even 
dream  the  things  was  that  oudacious. 

The  instructions  left  by  Len  were  to  have 
several  wagon-loads  of  rails  taken  from  fences 
of  adjacent  patches  and  deposited  in  a  pile  a  few 
feet  from  the  hen-house.  These  were  executed 
under  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Pate,  who  afterwards 
waited  for  results  with  what  patience  she  could 
command.  About  four  days  afterwards  her  ire 
rose  if  possible  to  white  heat  when,  in  the 
early  morning,  having  repaired  to  the  hen-house, 
fifteen,  including  hens,  pullets,  roosters,  young 
and  old,  lay  still  in  death,  their  neatly  cut 
throats  seeming  to  appeal  for  compassion  for 
such  untimely  tragic  end.  Among  them  was  a 
favorite  speckled  matron,  which  had  been  raised 
by  hand  in  the  very  house,  and  which  from  pure 
gratitude  and  affection  came  often  into  the  little 
back  shed  room,  laid  her  egg  on  the  floor  or  on 
the  bed,  lifted  up  her  cackle  and  then  went  back 
to  her  business  out  of  doors.  When  she  also  was 
found  among  the  slain,  her  mistress,  as  she  freely 
admitted  afterwards,  had  to  just  give  up  and 
cry,  "because,"  she  pleaded,  "it  not  only  made 


152  OLD   TIMES   IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

me  mad,  but  it  hurt  my  feelings  in  the  bargain, 
and  I  couldn't  help  it." 

Len  made  haste  to  come  to  the  call  that  had 
been  sent  by  a  swift  runner.  After  counting 
the  dead  accurately  with  as  much  of  a  smile  as 
ever  could  light  up  his  pale,  serious  face,  he 
said : 

"  My,  my  !  Fifteen  of  'em  !  Had  a  big  spree, 
didn't  they  ?  Obleeged  to  be  more'n  one  of  'em. 
We've  got  'em,  cert'n,  and  no  mistake." 

"And  now,"  he  said  kindly,  "sense  the  thing 
have  been  come  up  with,  I'll  tell  you,  Mr.  Pate, 
and  special  you,  Missis  Pate,  how  I  got  him." 

"Got  him!"  said  Mr.  Pate.  "I  don't  see 
where  you've  got  anything  of  the  kind.  What 
you  talkin'  about,  Len  ?  " 

"  Missis  Pate,"  Len  said,  turning  resignedly  to 
her,  "Mr.  Pate'll  believe  nothin'  till  he  see  it 
with  his  own  eye.  I'll  tell  you  where  the  things 
is,  and  I'll  tell  you  how  they  got  there,  for 
there's  more'n  one  of  'em.  Now,  Missis  Pate, 
you  have  knew  people  that  they  loved  whiskey 
to  that  they'll  git  so  drunk  they  can't  wabble 
till  the  stuff  have  died  out  in  'em,  and  they  can  git 
back  the  use  o'  theirselves.  Well,  now,  madam, 
it  took  me  a  longer  time  than  the  miser' ble 
things  is  worth  to  find  out  about  'em,  because 
they're  so  sca'ce  and  sly  and  awful  dodgy.  But 
a  weasel  is  jest  as  fond  o'  blood,  and  special 


WEASELS   ON   A  DEBAUCH  153 

chicken  blood,  as  a  drunkard  is  of  whiskey,  and 
it  have  the  same  eefeck  on  him.  If  he  can  git 
enough  of  it,  he'll  keep  a  swiggin'  at  it  tell  he 
gits  that  drunk  that  the  first  place  he  can  creep 
into  when  he's  perfect  full,  in  there  he  go  and 
stay  till  he  can  sleep  his  drunk  off.  As  for 
them  weasels  that  were  in  that  hen-house,  last 
night,  if  Mr.  Pate'll  take  the  trouble  to  have 
them  rails  took  up,  them  weasels  is  in  there 


some'rs." 


"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Pate,  when  relating  the 
incident  to  me,  "  it  did  beat.  When  he  begun 
talkjn'  to  me  about  weasels  gittin'  drunk,  I 
a' most  suspicioned  he  were  gittin'  out  of  his  poor 
little  head ;  but  don't  you  know,  sir,  at  the 
bottom  o'  that  pile  o'  rails,  there  they  wor,  three 
of  'em,  sir,  and  they  were  that  perfect  swelled 
up  with  dead  drunk,  they  didn't  know  it  when 
the  hounds  killed  'em.  Time  that  were  over, 
Len  left,  because  he  say  a  turkle  have  been  in 
his  cat-fish  hole  on  the  creek,  and  he  have  to  go 
there  right  away  to  fix  to  git  him.  He  wouldn't 
hardly  stay  long  enough  to  hear  all  my  wife's 
thankin's  she  give  him ;  but  which  all  sech  as 
that  go  to  make  me  say  that  Len  Cane,  little  as 
he  were,  and  not  botherin'  hisself  about  matters 
he  know  nothin'  about,  yit  in  some  things  — 
well,  sir,  for  smart  in  them  things,  I  never  see 
Little  Len  Cane's  equil." 


EPHE 


EPHE 

EPHE.  Except  by  his  mother,  and  then  only 
when  in  angry  or  monitory  mood,  he  was  never 
called  otherwise.  "  Ephom  !  You  Ephom  !  " 
He  always  knew  by  the  cry  that  something  was 
to  be  paid ;  yet  he  was  used  to  it,  and,  after  an 
instalment  was  entered,  went  along  much  as 
before.  He  and  his  sister  Jane,  two  years  older, 
were  children  of  Susan,  a  free  black  woman, 
whose  husband,  Ephraim,  a  slave  of  Mr.  Colin 
Duncan,  had  deceased.  This  gentleman's  man 
sion,  a  plain  two-story,  was  situate  on  the  hither 
limit  of  his  plantation,  half  a  mile  from  the  vil 
lage.  The  family  occupied  a  small  house  in  one 
of  his  fields,  where,  with  a  bit  of  ground  and 
outside  employment,  they  got  sufficient  living. 
The  woman,  honest,  industrious,  when  made  a 
widow  obtained  Mr.  Duncan's  consent  to  become 
guardian  of  her  family.  Such  arrangement 
was  usual  with  persons  of  her  class,  in  con 
formity  with  provision  of  the  General  Assembly 
of  the  State.  Generally  they  were  regarded 
with  kindness,  often  extending  to  compassion. 

157 


158  OLD  TIMES   IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

A  Fourth  Estate,  as  it  were,  among  slaves  and 
two  classes  of  whites,  few  in  numbers,  like  their 
kinsmen  in  bondage  simple,  affectionate,  recog 
nizing  their  station  to  be  the  very  lowest,  they 
deported  themselves  humbly,  and  were  seldom 
charged  with  crimes  or  even  pettiest  misdemean 
ors.  If  it  had  not  been  forbidden  by  the  law, 
jnany  would  have  chosen  to  be  sold  into  slavery. 
A  few  whites,  having  their  likes  in  every  com 
munity,  dissatisfied  with  their  own  conditions, 
which  they  had  not  energy  and  forethought  to 
improve,  addicted  to  general  complainings,  made 
these  pointed  against  free  negroes.  Even  an 
occasional  petty  slave-owner,  become  so  by  pur 
chase,  not  by  inheritance,  joined  to  greater  or 
less  degree,  arguing  that  their  presence  was  a 
menace  to  subordination.  But  sentiment  among 
most  persons  was  in  favor  of  allowing  all  reason 
able  privileges  in  their  rather  helpless  isolation. 

In  some  fashion,  not  of  the  best,  yet  not  bad, 
Ephe  grew  from  infancy  to  eighteen.  Large,  of 
great  strength  and  activity,  more  industrious  and 
contented  when  hired,  and,  indeed,  lacking  in 
judgment  at  work  when  not  under  supervision, 
his  time  for  a  year  past  had  been  spent  mainly 
with  jobs,  as  hoeing  in  gardens,  chopping  wood, 
and  the  like,  for  such  as  chose  to  employ  him. 
One  day  he  said  to  his  mother : 

"  Mammy,  I  wish  I  was  a  shore  'nough  nigger.  " 


EPHB  159 

"  Well,  ain'  you  a  nigger  ?" 

"  Yes'm,  but  not  in  dat  sense." 

"  What  sense  you  talkin'  'bout,  Ephom  ?  " 

"  In  de  sense  I  want  to  b'long  to  Mis  Dun 
can,,  and  him  gim  me  to  Marse  Johnny  to  be  his 
nigger  for  good." 

"  What  make  you  say  dat  now  ?  " 

"  Because  dis  ebenin',  when  Mis  Felts  was 
payin'  me  for  cuttin'  wood,  dat  Mis  Brockett 
was  in  de  sto'?  en  he  cussed  me,  en  -fee-said  iie 
wished  to  Gawd  ev'ry  free  nigger  was  hung  er 
driv  out  de  Ian'.  En  he  look  like  he  were 
gwine  to  light  on  me  wid  his  stick,  hadn't  been 
Marse  Johnny  was  passin'  by  from  school,  en  he 
tole  me  to  go  'long  home,  and  he  tole  Mis 
Brockett  he  oughtn't  'buse  me  when  I  done 
nothin'  't  all  to  him." 

The  mother  said  no  more,  for  she  knew  that  . 
it   was    not    an    unreasonable   wish.      Indeed,  ! 
towards  that  class,  feeling,  even  among  slaves, 
besides  distinct  superiority,  in  some  cases  was  / 
of  contempt  for  imagined  aspirations  beyond  all 
hope  to  compass. 

The  man  Brockett,  huge,  dark,  rugged,  had 
been  discharged  as  overseer  by  Duncan  because 
of  extreme  rigor  in  the  discipline  of  his  negroes. 
His  resentment  extended  to  Ephe,  who,  out  of 
pure  fear,  had  declined  to  work  on  his  farm 
near  by.  David  Felts,  the  other,  was  a  mer- 


160  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

chant,  who,  coming  there  a  year  or  so  back, 
bought  a  store  and  rented  a  dwelling-house. 
The  low  prices  set  on  his  goods  at  cash  sales, 
compared  with  credit  practised  in  the  two  other 
stores,  drew  customers,  and  soon  he  was  doing 
what  seemed  a  good  trade.  Reticent  except  in 
matters  of  pure  business  or  special  existing 
interest,  yet  he  was  affable,  thankful  for  patron 
age  however  small,  and  acted  as  if  he  sincerely 
wished  to  be  regarded  as  a  person  who  had 
come  there  to  impart  as  well  as  receive  benefits. 
From  certain  remarks  he  was  believed  to  have 
come  from  a  town  somewhere  on  the  eastern 
shore  of  Maryland.  His  son  Joseph,  about  six 
teen,  much  like  him,  assisted  at  the  counter, 
and  slept  in  the  back  room.  The  old  merchants, 
although  intimating  sometimes  that  Mr.  Felts 
must  purchase  at  lower  prices  than  they  could 
get,  seemed  as  sympathetic  as  the  rest  when, 
one  cold,  rainy  night,  the  store,  with  all  its 
contents,  except  Joseph,  was  burned  to  the 
ground. 

I  could  not  well  make  clear  the  excitement  in 
that  simple  community,  where  house-burnings 
were  almost  —  incendiarisms  absolutely  —  none. 
It  was  just  before  dawn ;  by  sunrise  everybody, 
including  many  from  the  country,  were  at  the 
scene.  Felts,  looking  like  an  extremely  poor 
man,  expressed  himself,  specially  to  Duncan, 


EPHE  161 

thankful  for  sympathy,  and  avowed  his  convic 
tion  that  it  must  have  happened  by  pure  acci 
dent.  Joseph,  who  had  escaped  by  a  miracle,  as 
it  were,  roused  by  the  smoke  and  heat,  having 
just  time  to  seize  his  clothes  and  break  through 
a  window  into  the  street,  where  he  dressed  him 
self,  was  too  sorely  shaken  to  talk  much.  He 
could  say,  however,  that  Ephe  Duncan  wasT&t 
the  store  the  previous  night,  and,  being  con 
siderably  in  liquor,  he  had  let  him  remanTimtil 
it  was  thought  safe  to  send  him  away ;  but  that 
he  had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  of  his  firing 
the  house.  Brockett,  happy  with  the  excitement, 
proposed  a  close  search  of  the  premises.  In 
time  he  picked  up,  near  the  gate-opening  outside, 
a  much-soiled  woollen  purse,  in  which,  besides  a 
few  small  coins,  were  a  five-dollar  note  and  a 
crumpled  paper  signed  by  his  guardian,  authoriz 
ing  Ephraim  Duncan  to  contract  and  receive  pay 
for  his  work.  Joseph,  although  startled  and 
pained  by  the  discovery,  was  obliged  to  admit 
that  he  was  pretty  sure  that  that  note  was  in 
the  cash-box  the  evening  previous.  When  this 
news  reached  Duncan,  who  had  returned  home, 
he  sent  a  messenger  for  Ephe  and  another  to  the 
county  seat  for  John  Frierson,  Esq.,  his  legal 
adviser. 

Eager  were  the  exclamations  of  the  finder. 

"  But,  Mr.  Brockett,  and  you  other  gentlemen," 


162       OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

pleaded  Felts,  "  this  is  a  life-and-death  matter, 
a  thing  I've  no  idea  that  poor  negro  knew,  even 
if  he'd  been  sober,  and  somehow  I  can't  believe 
he  set  fire  to  the  house.  I  beg  you  gentlemen 
to  — to  — " 

"Mister  Felts,"  Brockett  broke  in,  "this 
dev'lish  business  is  got  to  be  put  whar  it  be 
long,  for  the  safetity  of  other  people  well  as 
you.  I'm  a-goin'  for  that  villion,  and  if  I  ain't 
mistakened,  there's  men  here  as  will  go  'long 
with  me." 

With  a  half-dozen  others  he  set  out.  In 
formed  by  Susan  that  Ephe  had  gone  to  Dun 
can's,  they  proceeded  thither. 

Colin  Duncan,  of  medium  height,  slender, 
rather  pale,  held  in  much  respect  by  his  equals, 
was  not  loved  by  Brockett' s  set,  to  whom, 
though  never  asserting,  he  was  suspected  of 
feeling  strongly  the  sense  of  superiority.  At  the 
calls  of  the  men,  coming  upon  his  piazza,  and 
hearing  their  business,  he  said : 

"Have  you  any  warrant,  gentlemen?" 

"  No  need  of  any  warrant  in  such  a  case,  Mr. 
Duncan,"  said  Brockett. 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  is,  gentlemen.  All  of  you, 
perhaps,  excepting  Mr.  Brockett,  know  that.  I 
don't  say  that  the  boy  you  seek  is  on  my 
premises ;  but  if  he  were,  I  should  hardly  feel 
that,  in  a  case  as  serious  as  this,  I  would  do 


BPHE  163 

right  in  surrendering  him  except  upon  process 
of  law." 

His  mildness  and  apparent  hesitation  em 
boldened  Brockett  further. 

"  Come  now,  Mr.  Duncan,  you  can't  fool  us. 
We  know  he's  here,  and  we're  jes'  simple  got  to 
have  him.  Everybody  knows  how  you  respect 
free  niggers  above  white  folks  that's  got  none 
of  no  sort,  as  I've  heerd  you  say  with  my  own 
years  that  you  wished  the  whole  of  'em  was  sot 
free,  and  you  can't  deny  it  honest." 

"  Gentlemen,"  Duncan  said,  smiling,  as  he 
looked  towards  Brockett,  "  that  man  lias  heard 
me  say  that  I  believed  it  would  be  well,  at  least 
for  the  white  race,  if  the  slaves  were  all  liberated. 
Base  as  it  was,  especially  on  such  an  occasion, 
to  report  only  a  portion  of  my  words,  I  care  not 
for  it.  He  is  welcome  to  whatever  he  can  get 
out  of  the  malignity  that  he's  been  indulging 
against  me  since  I  discharged  him  from  my 
service.  For  what  he  says  of  my  trying  to  fool, 
as  he  terms  it,  I  admit  that  this  negro  is  now  in 
my  dining-room,  by  the  side  of  my  wife,  where, 
until  he  is  demanded  by  lawful  authority,  his 
safety  I  feel  to  be  as  sacred  and  binding  upon 
me  as  if  he  were  my  own  son.  I  will  not 
deliver  him  to  that  man  yonder  to  abuse  and 
outrage  before  he  can  be  brought  to  judicial 
trial,  and  if  he  attempts  to  enter  upon  my 


164  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEOEGIA 

premises  to  rescue,  I'll  shoot  him  as  I  would  a 
marauding  beast." 

Then  he  drew  forth  a  horseman's  pistol. 

The  men,  after  brief  communings,  went  away, 
followed  by  Brockett,  muttering  dire  threats. 

Early  next  morning  Duncan,  with  Frierson,  who 
had  come  the  night  before,  set  out  for  Felts'  house. 

"  Don't  you  say  a  word,  Mr.  Duncan,"  said 
the  latter  while  on  the  way.  "  Let  me  do  all  the 
talking  on  our  side.  I  think  I  understand  the 
case  now.  At  all  events,  I  will  before  I  leave 
this  small  but  respectable  old  burg." 

Felts  was  much  surprised,  even  exhibiting 
some  embarrassment.  When  the  guests  were 
seated,  entering  the  adjoining  room,  he  had  a 
brief  conversation  with  his  wife,  who  presently 
went  out  through  a  back  door.  On  his  return 
Frierson  said : 

"  We'd  like  to  see  your  son  also,  Mr.  Felts." 

"  He's  not  at  home  just  now,  sir ;  I  sent  him 
away  upon  some  business,  and  he  won't  be  back 
until  three  or  four  days." 

"  Oh  !  you  sent  him  away  ?  " 

Smiling,  as  if  he  had  made  a  point  sooner 
than  expected,  he  fixed  upon  him  a  look  which, 
from  an  astute,  experienced  lawyer,  few  besides 
the  innocent  can  confront.  Feeling  his  way,  he 
noted  the  almost  imperceptible  blenching,  and 
said,  coldly : 


EPHE  165 

"  Perhaps  it  is  as  well.  I  only  wished  to  put  to 
him  a  question  or  two,  Mr.  Felts/'  and  his  eyes 
pierced  through  and  through,  when  he  added : 

"  Mr.  Felts,  this  negro  did  not  fire  your  house. 
If  you  do  not  know  that,  your  son  does." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,  Mr.  Frierson,"  he 
answered,  with  some  pleading  in  his  tone,  "  ex 
cept  what  my  son  said.  He  didn't  accuse  Ephe, 
although  it  did  look  suspicious.  I  do  hope  on 
my  soul  the  poor  negro  isn't  guilty.  Mr. 
Brockett  and  the  other  gentlemen  will  tell  you 
that  I  said  the  same  thing  to  them.  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  not  even  prosecute  for  the  money, 
as  I  got  that  back." 

"  That  seems  forbearing  and  kind,  sir,  but  it 
is  not  quite  satisfactory.  The  boy  did  not  even 
steal  your  money.  For  his  security,  it  must  be 
made  convincingly  apparent  that  he  is  innocent 
of  any  sort  of  participation  in  this  affair.  If  it 
be  not,  I  will  myself  notify  the  Solicitor-General 
to  present  it  before  the  next  Grand  Jury.  What 
ever  else  comes  of  that,  one  thing  may  be  counted 
certain :  a  deal  of  money  will  be  spent  before  it 
is  ended.  Mr.  Felts,"  —  he  suddenly  broke  into 
loud,  commanding  interrogation, —  "  what  value 
would  you  have  set  upon  this  property,  and  at 
what  sum  was  it  insured  ?  However,  however," 
as  if  regretting  his  words,  "  I  will  withdraw 
those  questions  —  at  least  for  the  present  —  as 


166  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

I  have  no  right  in  this  private  manner  to  inquire 
into  the  details  of  your  business." 

Rising,  he  said  to  his  client : 

"  Mr.  Duncan,  I  think  we  may  as  well  retire. 
I  don't  see  what  more  can  be  done  until  the 
young  man  returns.  We  are  sorry  to  have  had 
to  trouble  you  in  your  own  house,  Mr.  Felts, 
but  you  know  we  must  defend  this  poor  creature 
as  well  as  we  can.  I  am  glad  to  see  how  frankly 
you  give  him  the  benefit  of  your  doubts.  Per 
haps  it  may  be  as  well  not  to  report  what 
transpired  in  this  interview.  I  bid  you  good- 
morning." 

Before  Felts  could  utter  the  guarded  words 
revolving  in  his  mind  they  were  gone. 

"  You  do  beat  all  creation,  Frierson,"  said 
Duncan. 

"  Ah,  my  friend,  at  such  a  time  a  man  must 
strike  first,  and  at  any  point  he  sees  or  guesses 
to  be  weak;  I  knew  that  was  somewhere  when 
he  said  his  cub  was  away,  and  I  struck  the  harder 
because  without  intelligent  aim.  Noting  how 
it  hurt,  I  felt  secure,  but  it  was  best  to  press  no 
further.  That  Joe  fired  the  house,  with  or  with 
out  his  father's  knowledge,  for  the  insurance 
money,  and,  to  delude  their  company,  pointed 
suspicion  to  the  negro.  Dishonest  as  they  be, 
they  are  not  bad  enough  to  wish  him  to  hang 
for  it.  Partly  to  prevent  that  and  partly  to 


EPHE  167 

avoid  close  questioning,  Felts  sent  him  away. 
He  will  return  or  not  according  to  what 
seems  more  advisable.  He  will,  and  so  must 
we,  keep  back  what  was  said  on  this  point. 
Ephe  is  all  right.  Thankful  for  his  escape,  we 
can  afford  to  let  the  rest  settle  as  they  can  their 
own  affairs." 

Ephe's  statement  was  that,  after  finishing  a 
job  of  wood-chopping,  he  had  been  called  into 
the  store  by  young  Felts  and  given  two  drinks 
of  whiskey.  He  recalled  the  fact  that  the  boy 
playfully  took  from  his  pocket  his  purse,  and 
after  some  time,  as  Ephe  thought,  replaced  it. 
He  could  not  tell  the  hour,  but  it  was  late  when 
he  left  for  home,  which  he  easily  reached,  and  en 
tered  without  disturbing  his  mother  and  sister. 
The  former  said  that,  rising  earlier  than  usual, 
she  discovered  the  blaze  at  its  first  appearance 
in  the  village,  when,  going  into  Ephe's  chamber, 
she  found  him  in  a  deep  sleep.  Duncan  reported 
her  words,  adding  that,  in  his  opinion,  she  was 
as  truthful  a  person  as  any  of  his  other  ac 
quaintances.  People  commended  the  merchant's 
promptness  to  express  credit  of  the  report,  and 
say  that  the  burning  most  probably  resulted 
from  Joseph's  carelessness  about  the  fire  on  the 
hearth  when  going  to  bed.  As  for  the  money, 
he  might  have  been  mistaken  in  his  supposed 
identification.  At  all  events,  its  quick  loss 


168  OLD    TIMES    IN   MIDDLE    GEORGIA 

showed  that,  at  the  time  of  taking  it,  he  was 
in  such  condition  as  to  be  hardly  responsible  for 
the  theft.  In  about  a  week  Joseph  returned, 
when  his  meek  and  humble  deportment,  and 
keeping  as  much  as  possible  out  of  the  stern 
presence  of  his  father,  looked  well,  very  well 
indeed.  It  became  understood  that  as  soon  as 
affairs  could  be  settled  the  family  would  move 
away.  When  it  was  known  that  the  property 
was  in  part  insured,  a  thing  that  never  had 
been  done  there  before,  everybody  was  thankful 
that  not  more  harm  was  done.  Even  Brockett, 
disappointed  and  reluctant,  at  length  gave  it 
up. 

"  I  did  think,"  he  said  doggedly,  "  we  had  a 
dead  holt  on  one  o'  the  cussed  things  that'll 
now  git  cusseder  than  ever,  with  rich  men  to 
hire  lawyers  and  back  'em.  It's  jes'  the  luck  o' 
poor  white  folks.  I  believe  yit  his  mammy  lied 
about  it.  They'll  all  do  it." 

Ephe's  family  had  been  so  frightened  that, 
yielding  to  their  entreaties,  he  was  allowed  to 
make  his  home  with  the  Duncans.  His  affection 
for  the  family,  particularly  John,  a  lad  of  four 
teen,  grew  to  be  as  devoted  as  that  of  a  dog  for 
its  owner,  and  somewhat  like  it.  He  loved  best 
of  all  to  follow  in  John's  company  and  do  his 
bidding.  Not  long  after,  when  the  two  were  in 
a  buggy  drawn  by  a  mettlesome  colt  that  they 


EPHE  169 

were  breaking,  just  as  they  turned  from  the 
highway  into  the  lane  leading  to  the  mansion, 
John,  rather  against  the  other's  remonstrance, 
took  the  reins.  Recognizing  change  in  the  grip, 
the  colt  suddenly  set  out  at  full  speed. 

"  Gimrne  back  dem  strings,  Marse  Johnny," 
said  Ephe;  but  before  he  could  resume,  the 
bit,  under  the  boy's  frantic  jerking,  was 
broken. 

"  My  Gawd ! "  cried  the  negro.  Rising,  he 
leaped  forward,  alighting  on  the  colt's  neck. 
Reaching  down,  he  inserted  his  thumb  into  its 
mouth,  and  grasped  its  jaw.  The  desperate, 
resistless  wrench  careened  rider  and  horse,  and 
they  were  prostrated  on  the  ground,  the  former 
underneath,  yet  keeping  his  hold.  John  quickly 
loosed  and  let  go  the  maddened  beast. 

"  Is  you  hurted,  Marse  Johnny  ?  You  ain' 
hurted,  is  you  ?  "  feebly  asked  Ephe. 

"  No,  no ;  but  Ephe,  dear  Ephe,  you  must  be, 
very  badly." 

"  T'ank  Gawd  !    T'anky  de  good  Lord  !  " 

"  Tell  me,  Ephe,  how  are  you  hurt  ?  Can 
you  get  up  ?  My  God  !  what  must  I  do  ?" 

"  Neber  mind  'bout  me,  my  marster ;  I  git 
up  d'rectly.  I  ain'  hurted  so  mighty  bad.  Jes' 
sorter  stunt  in  —  in  my  br  —  my  bres'.  " 

The  boy,  raising  his  head,  rested  it  upon  his 
knee.  He  coughed,  and  blood  oozed  from  his 


170  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

mouth.  While  the  flow  was  being  stanched  he 
looked  up  with  humblest,  blissfulest  thankful 
ness.  In  another  moment  upon  his  face  was 
beauty  such  as  Death  sometimes  paints  withal 
the  plainest  among  his  victims. 


A  CASE   OF   SPITE 


A  CASE   OF   SPITE 

UNDER  the  old  judiciary  of  the  State  of 
Georgia,  parties  in  the  courts  of  justices  of  the 
peace  were  allowed  trials  of  issues  by  a  jury 
composed  of  not  more  than  seven  men  nor  less 
than  five.  Some  incidents  of  a  case  in  one  of 
these  tribunals,  in  which  Josiah  Cofield,  Esq., 
presided,  I  purpose  to  report. 

Daniel  Hickson  was  so  dark-skinned  that 
people  used  to  call  him  Black  Dan,  and  his  dis 
position  was  much  like  his  outward  being.  I 
don't  remember  ever  to  have  heard  any  of  the 
neighbors  speculate  as  to  which  of  these  two 
conditions,  if  either,  preceded  and  produced  the 
other ;  but  all  were  persuaded  in  their  minds 
that,  if  not  parent  and  offspring,  they  must  have 
been  twin  brothers,  or  twin  sisters,  as  (in  the 
language  of  statutes)  the  case  might  be.  If 
Dan  Hickson  had  been  ever  fully  satisfied  with 
an  instance  of  treatment  received  by  him  from 
other  people,  nobody  could  tell  when  that  was. 
Perhaps  the  nearest  approach  was  the  day 
whereon  he  got  married.  For  indeed  he  did 

173 


174  OLD   TIMES   IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

get  a  wife,  and  a  good  one ;  but  some  said  it 
was  because  she  was  the  oldest  among  seven 
daughters  of  a  poor  man  whose  name  was 
Scroggins.  By  this  time  there  was  a  multi 
tude  of  children  whose  chief,  if  not  only  ad 
vantage  over  their  forbears  was  change  of  family 
name. 

Dan  was  a  carpenter ;  at  least  he  called  him 
self  one,  and  he  was  nigher  being  on  that  line 
of  business  than  any  other.  He  could  drive  a 
jack-plane  better  than  some  people  who  were 
without  much  addiction  to  that  kind  of  exercise, 
and  he  could  bore  an  auger  hole  not  so  divergent 
from  a  perpendicular  or  a  horizontal  as  to  let  it 
seem  worth  while  to  make  a  great  fuss  about  it. 
The  main  support  of  the  family  was  this  wife, 
who  slaved  herself  as  if  she  felt  bound  to  be 
everlastingly  thankful  for  her  escape  from  old- 
maidhood  and  the  Scroggins  name.  Besides  all 
work  at  home,  she  took  in  weaving  and  plain 
sewing,  sold  a  few  chickens  and  eggs,  all  about 
enough  to  purchase  what  few  things  were  needed 
from  the  stores.  Dan  did  not  complain  very 
often  of  his  wife ;  for,  dull  and  saturnine  as  he 
was,  he  could  not  but  know  that  she  did  almost 
every  blessed  thing  for  the  family.  Yet  he 
must  do  a  certain  amount  of  mouthing  in  order 
to  keep  her  from  getting  above  herself.  There 
is  nothing  more  important,  particularly  to  mean 


A  CASE  OF   SPITE  175 

husbands,  than  letting  women  know  that  they 
are  not  the  heads  of  things.  Commonly  he  sub 
mitted  to  home  conditions,  letting  himself  and 
his  children  be  fed  and  clothed  by  their  mother, 
fretting  himself  only  to  the  degree  deemed  pru 
dent  and  salutary  for  his  own  lordship.  Occa 
sionally  he  took  a  job,  mainly  for  the  purpose 
of  letting  it  be  known  what  the  result  would  be 
if  he  were  to  put  himself  fully  forth  with  the 
vigor  which  to  none  except  himself  he  was 
known  to  possess. 

A  mile  or  so  distant,  on  Williams'  Creek,  dwelt 
the  Collinses ;  good,  excellent  people,  whose 
head,  Mr.  Jacob  Collins,  a],l  his  acquaintances 
were  bound  to  respect<;'x  To  him,  from  Dan 
Hickson,  some  gratitude  for  little  favors  now 
and  then  was  due,  but  was  never  acknowledged.". 
One  reason  was  that  whenever  in  his  hearing 
the  name  of  Mrs.  Hickson  was  spoken,  Mr. 
Collins  was  hearty,  sometimes  even  ardent,  in 
his  praise ;  whereas,  at  the  mention  of  Dan's, 
he  was  either  entirely  silent,  or,  after  uttering 
a  grunt  of  varied  magnitude  and  doubtful  mean 
ing,  passed  on  as  if  in  search  of  conversation  upon 
topics  more  interesting.  Occasionally  he  called 
upon  Dan  to  do  little  jobs  in  fixing  up  loosened 
gates  and  doors,  mending  plantation  gear,  and 
things  of  that  sort.  Knowing  the  motive  for 
which  such  employment  was  bestowed,  Dan  was 


176  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

not  at  all  thankful  for  it,  and,  in  time,  grew  to 
actually  dislike  this  neighbor. 

Mr.  Collins,  in  point  of  fact,  was  not  so  very 
much  whiter  than  Dan,  either  in  complexion  or 
spirit ;  but  though  reticent  and  saving  almost  to 
closeness,  he  was  thoroughly  upright,  and  much 
more  kind-hearted  than  his  looks,  words,  and 
general  deportment  indicated. 

Dan's  wife  thought  a  great  deal  of  him,  as 
well  she  might,  for  the  times  when,  by  one 
way  and  another,  involving  not  considerable 
trouble  to  himself,  he  helped  them  out.  Dan's 
hostility  was  increased  by  this  feeling  in  his 
wife ;  not  at  all  from  jealousy,  but  because  it 
looked  to  him  as  if  meant  and  intended  to 
lower  himself,  and  at  length  he  came  to  wish 
for  an  opportunity  of  doing  what  he  called 
paying  Jack  Collins  back.  The  latter  perhaps 
would  have  known  of  this  feeling  if,  when 
known,  he  would  have  cared  about  it.  As  it 
was,  he  ignored  Dan's  sullenness  when  in  his 
presence,  and  acted  as  if  nothing  was  further 
from  his  thoughts  or  desires  than  being  made 
acquainted  with  anything  ever  passing  in  the 
head  of  Dan  Hickson.  It  was  destined,  how 
ever,  to  come  to  pass  that  such  acquaintance 
should  be  made  and  in  a  way  as  pronounced 
as  it  was  singular  and  unexpected. 


A   CASE   OF   SPITE  177 

One  night  Mr.  Collins  said  at  the  supper  table  : 

"  As  I  rid  by  Dan  Hickson's  this  evenin'  his 
wife  were  up  to  her  elbows  at  the  washtub.  I 
halted  a  bit,  howdied,  asked  how  all  was,  and 
she  the  same.  She  told  me  Dan  were  out  of  a 
job  and  she  wished  he  could  git  one.  I  didn't 
tell  her  what  were  on  my  mind  —  that  Dan  bet 
ter  stay  at  home,  and  git  to  ploughin'  and  hoein' 
and  tendin'  to  things  in  gener'l  thar,  than  be 
foolin'  around  lookin'  for  jobs  that  he  ain't  fittin' 
to  manage.  But  she's  such  a  hard-working  good, 
fine  woman,  and  have  so  much  scufflin'  to  do  to 
git  along  with  all  them  children,  a-addin'  in  Dan, 
I  felt  sorry  for  her ;  and  I  told  her  to  tell  Dan 
that  if  he  have  a  mind  to  it,  he  might  come  over 
to-morrow  mornin',  and  I'd  see  if  I  couldn't  give 
him  somethin'  to  do." 

"  Well,  /  should  have  told  her  no  such  thing," 
said  Mrs.  Collins.  "  Dan  Hickson's  work  isn't 
worth  nigh  what  he  charges  for  it,  and  besides 
it's  well  known  that  he  don't  like  you.  His 
wife  is  a  good,  industrious  woman,  and  all  that ; 
but  I  got  no  use  for  Dan  Hickson." 

"  Oh  well,  my  dear,  you're  right  about  Dan's 
work  and  his  gener'l  good  for  nothin' ;  but  I'm 
a-aimin'  at  helpin'  his  family.  As  for  Dan  Hick- 
son  not  likin'  o'  me,  I  never  pestered  my  mind 
about  whether  he  liked  me  or  not,  and  jest  as 
live  he  don't  as  do.  Them  is  the  exact  way  I 


178  OLD   TIMES    IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

am  about  Black  Dan  Hickson,  as  some  calls 
him. " 

There  were  quite  a  number  of  little  some 
things  needed  to  be  done  about  the  yard  and 
horse  lot ;  for  Mr.  Collins,  good  man  that  he 
was  known  to  be,  was  not  one  to  throw  away 
his  money  in  absence  of  all  consideration.  And 
so  when  Dan  came  over  next  day  he  was  en 
gaged  for  a  set  time  with  the  understanding 
that  it  might  be  extended  if  his  work  should 
prove  satisfactory.  The  job,  however,  was  done 
in  a  way  so  slovenly  that,  at  the  expiration  of 
the  engagement,  Mr.  Collins  frankly  owned  dis 
satisfaction,  and  added  that  he  would  have  no 
further  use  of  Dan's  services.  At  that  Dan, 
as  had  been  his  intention  all  along,  flew  into  as 
much  of  a  passion  as  he  knew  not  to  be  unsafe, 
refused  offer  of  the  money  stipulated  for  his 
work,  and,  when  he  had  reached,  passed  through 
and  shut  the  gate,  cried  back : 

"  I'm  a-goin'  to  sue  you,  sir." 

"Well,  Dan  Hickson,"  Mr.  Collins  fired  at 
his  back  as  he  rushed  away,  "  you're  a  triflin'er 
and  a  good-for-nothiner  creatur'  than  I  knewed, 
and  that's  a  heap  to  say."  Then  he  soliloquized 
thus  : 

"  I  have  knewed  some  fools  in  my  life-time ; 
but  it  seems  like  to  me,  if  I  ain't  bad  mistakened, 
Dan  Hickson's  the  biggest  I  ever  come  up  with. 


A   CASE   OF   SPITE  179 

He  sue  me,  after  I  offered  him  the  money,  and 
he  wouldn't  take  it !  Psher  !  go  'long  with  you, 
Dan  Hickson ! " 

He  turned  away  and  let  his  thoughts  seek 
other  themes.  A  few  days  afterward,  meeting 
Dan  on  the  street,  supposing  that  his  wrath  had 
subsided  enough  to  let  him  take  the  money  that 
was  due  him,  he  tendered  it ;  but  Dan  passed 
on,  and,  if  it  had  been  possible,  he  would  have 
looked  blacker  in  the  face  than  it  was  its  nature 
to  be.  Mr.  Collins  remarked  calmly  to  a  by 
stander  : 

"  It  appears  like  the  fool  in  Dan  Hickson 
have  growed  to  be  so  big  that  it  ockepy  all  his 
in'ards  and  can't  git  out  convenant  to  itself ; " 
and  he  added :  "  I've  heerd  older  people  than 
what  I  call  for  say  that  it  take  a  many  var'ous 
kind  o'  people  to  make  up  a  world ;  but  I  don't 
hizitate  to  express  my  opinion  that  it  seem  like 
to  me  if  Dan  Hickson  had  been  left  out  when 
they  were  makin'  the  one  we  has  at  the  present, 
they  is  a  monst'ous  few  people  would  a-said  they 
missed  him  so  mighty  powerful  much.  I  owe 
Dan  Hickson  fifteen  dollars ;  that  is,  I  acknow 
ledge  to  owe  it,  albe'  the  work  he  done  for  me 
ain't  worth  it ;  and  this  is  now  twice't  I've  of 
fered  to  pay  him  the  money,  and  he  won't  take 
it.  It  remain  to  see  what  he's  goin'  to  do  about 
it.  I  shan't  pester  myself  with  him  any  furder. 


180  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

He  did  threatin  to  sue  me,  and  you  know  'Siah 
Cofield  '11  let  summons  go  agins'  anybody  or  any 
thing  to  pile  up  his  fees.  But  if  Dan  do  do 
what  he  makes  his  threats,  without  I'm  much 
mistakened  in  the  law  o'  such  cases,  I'll  fling 
him  in  the  cost.  Because  it'll  be  no  thin'  but  a 
case  o'  spite,  and  mostly  because  I  got  more 
prop'ty  than  he  have ;  and  he  know  I  think  a 
mighty  heap  of  his  wife  and  a  monst'ous  little 
o'  him." 

It  was  a  frequent  and  entirely  honorable  boast 
of  Mr.  Collins  that  he  had  never  been  sued  in 
any  court,  and  that  whenever  he  knew  the  pre 
cise  amount  of  a  creditor's  bill  it  had  been  his 
habit  to  give  or  send  the  money  on  or  before 
the  day  on  which  it  was  due  and  payable. 
Therefore,  when,  a  few  days  afterward,  James 
Hutchins,  the  constable,  brought  a  summons  to 
be  and  appear  on  the  next  but  one  ensuing 
Saturday  at  the  Courthouse  of  Josiah  Cofield, 
Esq.,  to  make  answer  to  a  suit  at  the  instance 
of  Daniel  Hickson,  it  could  hardly  be  expected 
that  such  a  man  could  refrain  from  at  least  a 
few  words  of  righteous  resentment. 

"  Well !  the  fool  have  done  gone  and  done 
like  he  said  he  would.  It  have  broke  out  on 
him  worse  than  I  thought,  and  Squire  Cofield 
and,  as  to  that,  you  too,  might  have  knew  there 
were  somethin'  wrong  some'r's." 


A  CASE  OF  SPITE  181 

"I  hope  you  won't  blame  me  and  Squire 
Cofield,  Mr.  Collins.  We're  obleeged  —  " 

"  Oh  no,  Jeems,  I  don't  blame  you  nor  him 
from  wantin'  your  fees ;  and  I  can't  hold  you 
responsible  for  Dan  Hickson  havin'  of  no  more 
sense.  You  go  'long,  and  tell  Squire  Cofield  I'll 
certain  to  be  thar  if  I'm  a-livin'." 

Quite  a  number  of  the  neighbors  used  to ) 
gather  at  the  court  ground  on  the  one  Saturday/ 
in  the  month  when  this  tribunal  sat.  To-day 
as  many  as  forty  were  present ;  for  much  talk 
had  been  given  out  by  both  parties  in  this  issue, 
and  considerable  curiosity  was  indulged.  Mr. 
Collins  and  Dan  put  in  an  early  appearance ;  the 
latter  seemed  calm,  but  sufficiently  serious,  with 
the  thought  of  a  poor  man  being  forced  thus  to 
cry  out  for  withholding  of  hard-earned  wages. 
At  the  sounding  of  the  case,  both  parties  an 
nouncing  themselves  ready,  the  magistrate  said : 

"Then  perceed  with  the  case;  Mr.  Hickson 
have  the  no'  first." 

To  be  accurate,  this  was  a  figure  of  speech; 
for,  being  a  hot  day,  the  Court  removed  from 
the  small  building,  and  seated  itself  beneath  a 
white-oak  tree  near  by. 

Of  the  four  witnesses  summoned  the  first, 
after  proving  the  bill,  was  turned  over  to  the 
defendant  for  cross-examination. 


182  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

"  I  got  no  question  for  the  witness/'  said  the 
latter.  "  Every  word  he  have  swore  to  is 
nothing  but  the  God's  truth!"  The  like  oc 
curred  with  the  second.  When  the  third  was 
put  forth  one  of  the  by-standers,  voicing  the 
general  sentiment  of  rising  disgust,  said  to  Dan, 
loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  several : 

"What  you  keep  puttin'  up  witnesses  for, 
Dan  ?  Don't  you  see  Mr.  Collins  ain't  'sputin' 
your  account  ?  " 

"  Never  you  mind,"  answered  Dan  ;  "  I'm 
a-goin'  to  jes  pile  it  on  to  him,  to  let  him  know 
who  he's  a-amin'  to  run  over  and  squush." 

"  All  right ;  go  it,  horsefly  !  but  if  you  don't 
look  out,  you're  goin'  to  be  popped  off  with  the 
whip,"  the  interlocutor  replied. 

Plaintiff's  case  at  length  closed,  and  defendant 
was  informed  that  the  floor  was  his.  Rising 
slowly,  he  cast  his  eyes  in  solemn  retrospect 
toward  his  home  and  the  memories  awakened 
by  thoughts  of  it.  Turning  again,  without 
seeming  to  note  the  presence  of  the  dignitary 
before  him,  he  threw  a  general  mildly  appealing 
look  around,  and  then  began : 

"  Forty-nine  year  ago,  on  the  twenty-fift'  o' 
last  December  I  were  borned;  and  it  were  in 
this  same  county,  and  in  this  same  deestrict, 
and  that  not  a  mile  from  where  I  now  ockepy 
with  myself  and  my  own  people  in  reason'ble, 


A   CASE   OF   SPITE  183 

mod' rate  peace  —  untwell  now.  I  'member 
freckwent  to  have  heerd  my  mother  say  that 
when  I  come,  I  come  a  Chris'mas  present, 
which  I've  no  idee  she  would  have  used  them 
words  if  she  had  have  knew  that  I'd  live  to 
see  the  time  I  had  to  be  sued  for  a  account  o' 
fifteen  dollars,  and  that  by  sech  a  man  as  Dan 
Hickson.  No,  I  honest  believe  sech  as  that  were 
far  be  it  from  the  mouth  o'  that  honor 'ble  fe 
male  ;  that  I've  not  a  doubt  on  the  mind  of  all 
that  knewed  her  when  she  died  the  twentit'  o' 
this  last  Aperl  she  went  straight  to  mansion  in 
the  sky." 

It  was  a  good  exordium ;  for  evidently  it  told 
upon  all  present,  even  Dan,  who  scowled  around 
as  if  to  remonstrate  against  the  insinuation  that 
he  meant  to  cast  reflection  upon  the  memory  of 
the  excellent  lady  to  whom  so  pathetic  allusion 
had  been  made. 

"  If  my  ric' lection  b'ar  me  out,"  the  speaker, 
after  a  tender  pause,  proceeded,  "  all  the  records 
in  this  county  will  show  that  I  never  has  been 
sued  in  no  court,  little  nor  big,  since  I  have  been 
a  man  grown,  and,  in  course  not  before  I  arriv' 
to  that  age  o'  discretion,  umph  —  so  to  speak  — 
untwell  now.  And  in  the  first  offstart  of  these 
few  remarks,  I  say  this  case  is  nothin'  in  the 
world  but  a  case  o'  puore  spite;  and  I'll  let 
you,  my  neighbors  and  friends  and  acquaintances 


184  OLD  TIMES   IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

and  feller-citizens,  I'll  let  you  all  see  just  how 
it  is. 

"  Ahem !  My  yard  and  horse  lot  wanted  some 
little  patchin'  up,  and  me  and  Dan  Hickson  made 
a  bargain  for  twenty  days  at  seventy-five  cent  a 
day.  I  told  him  if  he  done  it  to  suit  I  might 
keep  him  some  longer,  as  there  were  some  other 
work  a-wantin'  to  be  done.  I  knewed  he  wern't 
the  carpenter  he  called  hisself;  but  he  have  a 
excellent,  hard-workin',  good  woman  for  wife; 
and  it  were  because  of  her  and  her  quantities 
o'  little  children  I  thought  I'd  try  him,  it  bein' 
always  my  feelin'  it  were  a  pity  that  sech  a  fine 
woman  have  to  put  up  with  jest  sech  a  man  as 
Dan  Hickson  is." 

Here  everybody,  except  Dan  and  Squire  Co- 
field,  laughed  heartily. 

"  Well,"  continued  the  defendant,  "Dan  Hick- 
son  showed  hisself  a  poorer  workman  than  I  had 
honest  took  him  for ;  and  so  when  his  time  were 
out  I  told  him  I  has  no  furder  use  for  his  ser 
vices,  but  that  there  were  his  fifteen  dollars,  and 
I  took  out  my  pocket-book.  Then  he  up,  he  did, 
and  he  riz  into  a  passion,  and  he  declar'  he  won't 
take  the  money,  but  is  a-goin'  to  sue  me  for  it. 
First  time  I  see  him  arfter  that  I  told  him  there 
were  his  money  if  he'd  step  in  Mr.  Huckaby's 
store  and  give  me  a  receipt  for  it.  He  never 
noticed  me  no  more'n  I'd  been  a  hound-dog. 


A  CASE  OF    SPITE  185 

And  so,  first  thing  I  knewed,  here  comes  Jeems 
Hutchins  with  a  summons.  And  now  I  ask  the 
question  if  my  friends  and  neighbors  think  it's 
fa'r,  and  if  it's  right  betwix'  man  and  man  for 
me  to  be  flung  in  the  cost  by  Dan  Hickson,  who, 
if  he  deny  my  words,  I'm  ready  to  prove  'em 
every  one.  These  is  all  the  remarks  it  lay  on 
my  mind  to  say  on  the  present  occasion." 

This  address  was  followed  by  looks  and  mur- 
murings  that  made  Dan  hang  his  head  in  silence. 

"  Take  the  case,  gent'men  o'  the  jury,"  charged 
the  magistrate,  "  and  decide  it  accordin'  to  your 
idees  betwix'  man  and  man,  the  pla'ntuff  and 
the  defen'ant." 

After  a  very  few  minutes  the  jury,  returning 
from  another  oak  to  which  they  had  repaired, 
rendered  the  following : 

"  We,  the  jury,  find  this  a  case  o'  spite ;  and 
our  verdi't  is  the  pla'ntuff  Dan  Hickson  be  flung 
in  the  cost." 

Dan,  seizing  his  hat,  betook  himself  away. 

"Come  back  here,  Dan  Hickson,"  cried  Squire 
Cofield,  "and  pay  them  cost;  the  jury  have 
found  agin'  you,  out  and  out;  and  if  you  don't 
come  back  and  "  — 

"Never  mind,  Squire  Cofield,"  Mr.  Collins 
blandly  interrupted,  "  let  him  go.  Here's  his  fif 
teen  dollars ;  the  jury  have  found  against  him, 
but  I'll  pay  it,  and  you  can  take  the  cost  out  of 


186  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

that.  I'll  make  it  up  some  way  to  the  creatur's 
family.  Dollar  eighteen  and  three  quarter  cent, 
ain't  they  ?  Yes,  well,  take  it  out,  and  I'll  make 
it  up  somehow.  But  my  advice  would  be  to 
you  to  be  more  keerful  how  you  send  your  sum 
monses  to  people  that  you  obleeged  to  know 
they  ain't  a-wantin'  to  dodge  nothin'  that's  ac- 
cordin'  to  law  and  jestice." 

After  he  had  gone,  one  of  the  men  said : 
"  Had  no  idee  Mr.  Collins  was  sech  a  pleader. 
When  he  brung  in  his  ma,  I  declar'  I  were  a'most 
fit  to  cry ;  for  I  knowed  her,  and  she  were  as 
perfec'  a  saint  in  her  old  age  as  ever  trod  grit 
in  Warren  County.  It's  to  be  now  hoped  that 
Black  Dan '11  let  out  some  o'  the  fool  that's 
always  been  in  him." 


MR.  PEA  NEARLY  NONPLUSSED 


MR.   PEA  NEARLY  NONPLUSSED 

MR.  BENJAMIN  PEA,  even  in  his  youth,  had 
been  addicted  to  forgetfulness  and  absence  of 
mind.  As  he  grew  older  these  infirmities  in 
creased,  and  now  that  he  was  quite  old,  it  hap 
pened  more  frequently  than  ever  that  he  became 
what  he  called  "  wery  nigh  nonplushed."  Such 
was  the  kindness  of  his  heart,  however,  that 
he  was  always  ready  to  apologize,  and,  when 
possible,  make  amends  for  his  mistakes. 

"  I  have  fit  agin  it  all  my  life-time,"  he  would 
say  sometimes,  in  a  deploring  way  ;  "  but  when 
a  thing  is  jes'  horned  with  a  person,  he  may 
fight  agin  it,  but  he  can't  whip  it  clean,  out  and 
out.  But  I  don't  think  I  were  ever  quite  as  nigh 
bein'  of  nonplushed  as  I  were  with  Billy  Owens, 
twicet  in  Agusty." 

And  this  is  the  way  it  happened.  Robert  and 
William  Owens,  neighbors,  but  never  intimates 
of  Mr.  Pea,  had  removed,  fifteen  years  before, 
to  Augusta,  where  they  had  been  doing  as  well 
as  they  could  in  various  vocations.  The  brothers, 
though  somewhat,  were  not  alike  sufficiently  to 

189 


190  OLD  TIMES   IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

embarrass  anybody  in  distinguishing  between 
them  except  just  such  a  man  as  Uncle  Ben  Pea, 
as  he  was  wont  to  be  called.  Uncle  Ben  made 
one  visit  a  year  to  that  city,  so  loved,  so  honored, 
so  magnified  by  the  Middle  Georgia  country 
people  of  that  time.  A  few  months  before  one 
of  these  visits,  the  news  had  come  to  the  neigh 
borhood  that  William  Owens'  wife  had  died. 
Uncle  Ben  heard  it  with  the  rest,  and  though 
he  had  never  thought  much  of  Billy  Owens,  yet 
he  pitied,  he  said,  the  poor  fellow,  because  he 
knew  what  it  was  himself ;  for  Uncle  Ben  was, 
and  had  been  for  many  years,  a  widower,  and 
so  remained  until  his  death.  Billy  Owens'  be 
reavement,  however,  had  not  made  so  profound 
an  impression  on  Mr.  Pea's  mind  as  to  be  there 
when  it  would  have  been  especially  desirable  to 
that  kind-hearted  man. 

On  the  occasion  of  one  of  his  yearly  visits  to 
Augusta  he  had  just  disposed  of  his  load  of  cot 
ton,  and,  turning  from  Mclntosh  into  Broad 
Street,  was  proceeding  with  the  prudent  obser 
vation  which  gentlemen  from  the  country  were 
wont  to  make  in  order  to  guard  securely  against 
getting  lost  in  a  town  so  vast,  when  he  was 
startled  by  hearing  himself  loudly  but  most 
cordially  saluted  by  name,  and  felt  himself 
pressed  heavily  but  most  fondly  upon  the  shoul 
der. 


MK.   PEA   NEARLY   NONPLUSSED  191 

"  How  are  you,  Uncle  Ben  ?  " 

Turning,  he  recognized,  after  a  brief  scrutiny, 
that  it  was  Mr.  William  Owens.  It  required 
some  scrutiny  though,  because  Mr.  Owens  looked 
so  uncommonly  spruce. 

"Why — Bob;  no,  it's — yes  —  it's  Billy  Owens. 
Why,  Billy,  I  never  seed  you  look  better.  I 
needn't  to  ask  how  you  are ;  how's  your  wife 
and  —  all  the  rest  of  —  the  fambly  ?  " 

Mr.  Pea  did  not  know  whether  Mr.  Owens 
had  any  children  or  not. 

"How's  your  wife,  Billy?  how's  that  good 
'oman  ? "  Affectionate  is  the  word  to  charac 
terize  Mr.  Pea's  language  and  his  tone. 

Mr.  Owens'  cordial  freedom  subsided  for  an 
interval.  Removing  his  new  fur  hat,  he  placed 
his  hand  respectfully  upon  the  crape,  and  softly 
replied : 

"  My  wife,  Uncle  Ben  ?  Why,  she's  dead.  I 
supposened  you'd  heard  about  it." 

Mr.  Pea  laid  his  finger  upon  his  nose  (his 
own  nose  of  course),  a  habit  he  had,  as  if  such 
action  helped  him  in  recalling  things  he  ought 
not  to  have  forgotten. 

"  Billy,  I  beg  your  pardon.  It  seems  to  me 
that  I  did  hear  of  Mrs.  Owenses  death,  and  that 
I  were  very  sorry  to  hear  of  it.  Cert'nly,  Billy, 
I  did  hear  of  it ;  but  —  you  —  you  looked  so 
well,  Billy,  that "  —  Uncle  Ben,  though  a  man 


192  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

that  rather  prided  himself  on  his  veracity,  felt 
that  a  little  story  would  be  no  great  sin  in  the 
circumstances  —  "  that  I  thought  it  must  be  — 
a  —  kind  of  a  —  mistake,  Billy." 

"No,  Uncle  Ben,"  answered  Mr.  Owens, 
smoothing  the  fur  that  was  uncovered ;  "  the 
news  was  true.  It  come  nigh  killin'  me,  Uncle 
Ben.  One  time  it  'peared  like  it  would  kill  me. 
But  I  had  my  business  to  attend  to,  and  so  I 
tried  to  keep  up  as  well  as  I  could." 

"  Right,  Billy.  I'm  glad  you  took  them  views, 
Billy.  When  a  man  like  you  and  me,  Billy, 
loses  their  wives  —  " 

But  just  at  that  moment  a  lady,  youngish, 
rather  handsome,  and  rather  afflicted  looking, 
passed  down  the  street  by  the  gentlemen.  She 
was  dressed  in  black,  though  there  was  white 
on  her  wrists,  around  her  neck,  and  in  the  in 
side  of  her  bonnet.  She  bowed  distantly  as  she 
passed. 

"  Well,  good-bye,  Uncle  Ben,"  said  Mr.  Owens, 
placing  his  hat  on  one  side  of  his  head,  "  I  have 
to  go,"  and  Mr.  Owens  went  on  down  the 
street. 

"  I  were  mighty  nigh  nonplushed,  Bob,"  Mr. 
Pea  said  shortly  afterwards  to  his  brother  on 
meeting  him  and  telling  of  his  mistake. 

"Oh,  Billy '11  git  through,  Uncle  Ben.  He's 
young  yit  awhile.  Billy's  all  right." 


MR.   PEA  NEARLY   NONPLUSSED  193 

"I  think  so,  Bob/'  said  Mr.  Pea.  "Billy 
looks  like  he'd  pull  through." 

Yet  Mr.  Pea  said  he  had  been  monstrous  nigh 
bein'  of  badly  nonplushed,  and  Miss  Georgiana, 
his  daughter  and  only  child,  was  much  amused 
by  his  account  of  it. 

At  about  the  same  time  of  the  next  year  Mr. 
Pea  was  on  his  yearly  visit  to  the  famous  city. 
He  was  just  coming  out  of  the  store  of  the  Car- 
michaels,  and  a  boy  was  carrying  to  his  wagon 
a  shovel  and  a  pair  apiece  of  fire-tongs  and  and 
irons.  At  that  moment,  Mr.  William  Owens 
came  walking  down  Broad  Street.  From  his  hat 
the  crape  was  absent,  and  its  own  spruceness 
and  that  of  his  remaining  self  departed.  His 
gait  and  his  mien  were  serious,  but  at  the  sight 
of  his  old  neighbor  he  brightened  up  somewhat. 

"Why,  if  it  ain't  Uncle  Ben  Pea."  Then  he 
seized  Mr.  Pea  by  the  hand. 

Mr.  Pea  was  a  rather  short  man,  stout.  Both 
the  Owenses  were  tall.  After  another  brief 
scrutiny,  and  apparent  satisfaction  therewith, 
Mr.  Pea  said  in  the  tone  a  man  would  be  apt  to 
employ  to  persons  who  had  expected  to  catch 
him  napping,  and  had  found  him  wide  awake : 

"Oh — yes,  Owens.  It's  Bob  Owens.  How 
d'ye,  Bob  ?  How's  your  fambly  ?  Poor  Billy, 
hes  dead,  I  know.  I  was  sorry  to  hear  it. 
So  was  Georgie  Ann.  We  was  both  very  sorry 


194  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

to  hear  it.  How's  his  poor  widow  and  —  the 
rest  of  his  fambly  genilly?" 

"  Dead  !  Uncle  Ben  !  "  answered  Mr.  Owens. 
"Dead!  Why,  Tm  Billy  Owens." 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul,"  cried  Mr.  Pea,  not 
loudly,  though.  There  were  too  many  persons 
passing  on  the  street  for  that.  Only  Mr.  Car- 
michael  heard  him. 

Mr.  Pea  looked  down,  laid  his  finger  along 
the  full  length  of  his  nose,  slightly  lifting  his 
spectacles  in  the  action.  Then  looking  up  again 
he  said: 

"  Why,  cert'nly,  Billy.  What  was  I  talkin' 
about  ?  It's  your  wife  that's  dead.  You're  a 
widower  now,  Billy,  poor  fellow,  like  me." 

"  No,  Uncle  Ben,  not  now." 

Mr.  Carmichael  had  gotten  behind  the  door, 
and,  as  he  could  not  hold  it  up,  had  laid  his 
head  against  the  wall.  Mr.  Owens  saw  him 
peeping  through  the  crack  above  one  of  the 
hinges.  The  embarrassment  of  Mr.  Pea  now 
seemed  as  if  it  was  going  to  turn  to  anger. 

"Billy  Owens,"  he  said  sternly,  "don't  be 
try  in'  to  make  a  fool  outen  me." 

"  I  ain't,  Uncle  Ben,"  answered  Mr.  Owens. 
With  Mr.  Pea  in  front,  and  Mr.  Carmichael  at 
the  crack  of  the  door,  he  did  not  know  whether 
to  cry  or  to  laugh. 

"  I   ain't,   Uncle   Ben.      It's   my   first   wife 


MR. 'PEA    NEARLY   NONPLUSSED  195 

you're  thinkin'  about.  Shes  dead,  and  I'm 
married  agin." 

Mr.  Pea  removed  his  finger  from  his  nose, 
readjusted  his  spectacles,  looked  up  at  Mr. 
Owens  thoughtfully,  and  studiously  laid  both 
his  hands  upon  the  lapels  of  Mr.  Owens'  coat, 
then  very  slowly  said  :  "  Billy  —  they  ain't  — 
none  o'  you  dead,  then —  at  the  present  ?" 

"  No,  Uncle  Ben,  I'm  thankful  to  say  that 
I'm  yit  a  livin'  and —  ' 

"  And  your  wife,  Billy,  she's  dead  —  ah,  that 
is,  in  course,  your  first  wife  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  feebly  responded  Mr.  Owens,  as  he 
saw  through  the  crack  Mr.  Carmichael  getting 
down  upon  his  knees. 

Mr.  Pea,  yet  pressing  his  lapels,  and  looking 
intently  at  Mr.  Owens,  said  : 

"I'm  truly  glad  to  hear  it,  Billy — that  is, 
that  none  o'  you  are  dead  —  at  the  present. 
And  —  I  hope  that  none  of  you  never —  "  But 
this  seemed  to  be  going  too  far;  for  Mr.  Pea 
was  obliged  to  know  that  the  Owenses  could 
not  be  expected  to  become  an  exception  to  the 
law  of  universal  human  mortality. 

"  That  is  —  Billy  —  for  the  present.  I'm  so 
glad  to  hear  it,  Billy."  Mr.  Pea  looked  at  Mr. 
Owens  and  pressed  his  lapels  as  if  he  would 
like  to  take  him  in  his  arms  as  one  escaped 
from  death,  and  bear  him  away  from  possible 


196  OLD  TIMES   IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

reach  of  the  monster.  He  repeated  yet  once 
again,  looking  the  while  with  fondest  affec- 
tionateness : 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  hear  it,  Billy.  And,  Billy, 
if  anything  do  happen,  won't  you,  or  won't 
you  leave  word  for  somebody  to  send  me  a 
letter,  and  —  but  pshaw !  Sich  a  thing  ain't 
goin'  to  happen  in  my  day  —  well,  good-by, 
Billy." 

When  he  had  gone,  "  Mr.  Carmicol ! "  said 
Mr.  Pea,  looking  around. 

Mr.  Carmichael  came  forth  from  behind  the 
door,  coughing  and  blowing  his  nose  as  if  he 
had  taken  sudden  violent  cold. 

"  Well,  upon  my  word,  Mr.  Carmicol,  I  were 
never  nigher  of  bein'  of  nonplushed  than  jes' 
now  with  Billy  Owens,  that  is,  for  a  while.  You 
see,  it's  the  second  time.  When  I  see  him  last 
year,  he  were  so  spry  and  gaily  like,  I  thought 
I  mout  be  mistaken  about  his  wife  bein'  dead ; 
a  purvidin'  I  ever  heerd  it,  and  which  Georgean 
say  we  did  hear  it ;  and  when  I  see  him  jes' 
now  so  serous  and  cast  down,  I  got  the  idee 
that  it  were  him  that  were  dead  instid  of  his 
wife,  and  that  he  were  Bob.  You  see,  Mr.  Car 
micol,  I  never  knowed  'em  intimate  nohow, 
though  I  never  knowed  anything  in  particular 
agin  'em.  Well,  he  looked  peerter  when  he 
were  a  widower,  than  he  do  now  sence  he's 


MR.   PEA   NEARLY   NONPLUSSED  197 

married  agin.  I  'spect  Billy  over-cropped  hisself 
the  last  time." 

"  That's  what  they  say,  Mr.  Pea,"  answered 
Mr.  Carmichael.  "He  married  the  widow 
Beardsley,  and  they  tell  me  that  she's  the 
captain  of  the  concern." 

"I  knowed  it,  and  it's  mighty  apt  to  be  the 
case  in  gineral.  But  I  don't  think  I  were  ever 
nigher  of  bein'  of  nonplushed  —  for  a  while. 
I  got  out  of  it  though  tollerble,  didn't  I,  Mr. 
Carmicol?" 

"Elegantly,  Mr.  Pea,  elegantly." 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Carmicol,  I've  always  been 
sort  o'  forgitful  and  abson-minded  ;  and  I've  had 
to  brace  myself  agin  it.  It's  not  often  they 
ketches  me  clean  out  and  out.  But  I  don't 
'member  when  I  were  nigher  to  it  than  jes' 
now  with  Billy  Owens.  You  think  I  got  out 
pretty  well,  eh  ?  " 

"  Oh,  elegantly,  elegantly." 

"I'm  glad  of  it.  I'm  even  thankful,  Mr. 
Carmicol.  You  see,  Mr.  Carmicol,  I  got  Billy 
for  a  while,  jes'  for  a  while  —  I  got  Billy  sorter 
mixed  up  'ith  —  'ith  —  you  may  say  —  a  couple 
o'  wimming  at  wunst,  an'  a  leetle  mo'  and  I 
mout  of  lost  my  holt  on  him,  and  of  hurted 
poor  Billy's  feelinks,  and  which  I  wouldn't  of 
done  that  nohow  in  the  world  ef  it  could  be 
hendered.  I  jes'  did  'scape  it,  like  a  feller 


198  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

that's  shot  at  and  missed.  It's  all  practice  'ith 
me,  Mr.  Carmicol ;  it's  every  bit  of  it  practice. 
For  practice,  you  know,  so  they  say,  makes  perfic. 
Hadn't  been  for  practice,  I  mout  of  been  of  non- 
plushed  clean,  out  an'  out,  an'  of  hurted  poor 
Billy's  feelinks,  which  I  wouldn't  of  done  for 
nothin'  in  the  world,  and  'special  him  in  the 
fix  he  'pear  to  be  in  at  the  present." 


LOST 


LOST 

WHEN  I  was  a  child  I  used  to  speculate,  in  a 
child's  way,  on  those  parables  of  our  Lord  re 
garding  the  woman's  lost  penny  and  the  one 
lost  sheep  of  the  shepherd.  The  wonder  was 
how  concern  for  the  missing  could  become  so 
absorbing  as  to  be  excluded  from  the  remaining 
ninety  and  nine.  Experiences  and  observations 
in  time  have  not  only  made  those  teachings 
intelligible  to  me,  but  they  seem  among  the  very 
wisest  and  most  benignant  that  come  from  that 
divine  source.  Aside  from  the  reproach  that 
a  loser  cannot  avoid  taking  upon  himself  for  real 
or  imagined  lack  of  vigilance,  when  a  possession, 
even  of  small  or  moderate  value,  has  been  lost, 
such  reproach,  without  parting  from  its  own 
peculiar  poignancy,  is  usually  accompanied  by  a 
feeling  of  compassion  which,  in  the  case  of  inani 
mate  things,  but  for  its  oft  occurrence,  would  seem 
most  strange  and  be  named  most  absurd.  Of 
course,  when  such  loss  is  of  a  human  being,  and 
one  among  the  dearest,  such  emotions  are  nat 
ural,  and  perhaps  the  most  anguishing  that  the 
human  heart  ever  is  made  to  suffer. 

201 


202  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

I  have  been  thinking  lately  of  a  case  that  I 
became  acquainted  with  many  years  ago.  I  had 
frequent  occasion  to  visit  an  elderly  gentleman 
residing  just  outside  the  limits  of  a  village  in 
another  county  than  mine.  In  the  drawing- 
room  of  his  mansion  were  several  pictures, 
mainly  family  portraits.  One  of  these  I  often 
regarded  with  much  interest.  It  was  of  a  boy 
child,  apparently  four  or  five  years  old.  It  was 
extremely  beautiful,  the  expression  being  so 
lovely  and  innocent  as  to  seem  almost  celestial. 
My  old  friend  never  made  allusion  to  it,  and  I 
do  not  recall  if  I  ever  saw  his  face  turned  in  its 
direction.  His  habit  was  to  meet  me  in  that 
room,  wherein  I  had  been  shown  by  a  servant, 
and  then  lead  to  his  library. 

One  day,  as  he  entered  silently,  I  was  stand 
ing  before  the  picture.  As  I  turned,  I  remarked 
how  strikingly  interesting  it  was. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  simply,  "the  child  for 
whom  it  was  taken  was  uncommonly  lovely. 
Will  you  come  with  me  into  the  library?" 

To  my  surprise  he  referred  not  again  to  the 
subject,  but  led  straightway  to  another. 

It  was  years  afterwards  that  one  morning  as 
I  was  approaching  the  house  I  noticed  a  well- 
dressed,  fair-looking  old  man  with  long,  white 
hair  on  his  head  and  face  leaning  upon  a  large 
gate  at  a  corner  of  the  yard  through  which 


LOST  203 

vehicles  were  wont  to  pass  to  the  rear  of  the 
mansion.  He  seemed  in  deep  meditation,  and, 
at  the  sound  of  my  advance,  turned  and  slowly 
moved  away.  On  entering  the  house  I  men 
tioned  this  fact  to  my  friend. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  answered.  "  Take  a  chair. 
In  a  minute  or  so  I'll  tell  you  about  him." 

He  retired  for  a  brief  while,  and  returning, 
thus  said : 

"He  is  the  child  whose  picture  in  the  next 
room  I  remember  you  taking  an  interest  in 
some  time  back.  He  is  the  same,  the  very  same 
to  me  that  he  was  then,  and  sometimes,  indeed, 
I  believe  that  he  is  the  same  to  the  Almighty 
Creator  who  suspended  the  best  part  of  his 
being  only  a  few  days  after  that  picture  was 
made.  He  was  so  fair  and  otherwise  attractive 
that  my  wife,  his  mother,  wished  for  him  to  be 
painted,  and  it  was  done.  We  were  then  resid 
ing  on  a  large  plantation  owned  by  me  in  one 
of  the  older  counties.  Our  cattle  and  some 
other  beasts  were  suffered  to  roam  at  large, 
getting  sufficient  living  in  the  woods  and  out 
lying,  untended  fields.  Young  negroes  toward 
evening  used  to  go  forth  in  order  to  bring  the 
lagging  milch-cows  to  their  pen.  One  evening 
this  child  asked  the  children  to  be  taken  with 
them,  and,  on  their  refusing,  and  running  away 
from  him,  unknown  to  them  and  any  person  at 


204  OLD   TIMES   IN  MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

the  house  he  followed,  and  became  lost  in  the 
wood." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  then  continuing, 
said : 

"  The  matter,  in  a  very  little  while,  was  made 
known  throughout  the  neighborhood;  and  by 
several  parties  during  that  night,  the  follow 
ing  day  and  night,  search  was  made.  On  the 
next  morning  he  was  found  within  half  a  mile 
of  the  house,  standing  in  a  shallow  pool  of 
water.  He  paid  no  attention  to  the  triumph 
ant  shouting  of  the  finders,  but  on  his  face 
was  the  serenity  which,  if  you  had  been  near 
enough  just  now,  you  would  have  observed.  He 
spoke  not  a  word,  nor  has  he  spoken  a  word 
since.  His  understanding  had  been  uncommonly 
bright,  so  his  parents  and  other  acquaintances 
regarded;  but  from  that  day,  more  than  fifty 
years  ago,  never  a  ray  of  intelligence  has  appar 
ently  come  to  it  beyond  what  belongs  instinc 
tively  to  the  lower  classes  in  animate  existence. 
If  he  has  ever  had  suffering  of  any  sort,  it  has 
never  been  known.  He  sits  most  of  the  day  in 
his  own  chamber  on  the  ground  floor  underneath 
my  own,  occasionally  going  forth  for  a  walk, 
always  seeming  in  calm  reverie.  He  has  always 
been  punctual  to  the  periods  of  eating  and  sleep 
ing,  in  which  he  is  served  by  one  of  my  men- 
servants,  in  whose  hands  he  is  as  an  infant. 


LOST  205 

Neither  this  man,  nor  myself,  nor  any  other  per 
son,  has  he  ever  appeared  to  recognize.  Since 
the  death  of  his  mother,  ten  years  back,  and 
since  I  have  become  much  more  sensible  of  my 
age,  I  cannot  but  indulge  anxiety  about  the  dear 
child's  care.  However,  however/'  with  an  easy 
effort  towards  resignation,  "  I  shall  try  to  trust, 
as  I  always  have  trusted,  that  the  judgments  of 
the  Almighty,  as  the  Psalmist  wrote,  are  '  just, 
justified  in  themselves/ ' 

To  my  old  friend  it  was  a  mercy  that  the 
child  died  before  him,  and  that  his  death  seemed 
as  free  from  pain  as  his  life  had  been. 


MUTUAL   SCHOOL-MASTERS 


MUTUAL  SCHOOL-MASTERS 

AMONG  my  acquaintances  at  the  bar  many 
years  back  was  one  who,  not  long  after  middle 
age  having  attained  considerable  fame  and  satis 
factory  fortune,  had  retired  from  practice,  and 
settled  upon  a  farm  a  few  miles  out  of  the 
county  seat. 

One  day,  while  he  and  I  were  together  in  my 
office,  he  gave  me  a  bit  of  his  own  experience 
that  interested  me  considerably.  I  will  put  it 
down  (as  near  as  I  can  recall  them)  in  his  own 
words. 

We  had  been  conversing  about  difficulties 
often  attendant  upon  the  beginnings  of  young 
professional  men.  To  some  remark  of  mine  he 
answered  rather  abruptly : 

"  Now,  now !  People  may  talk  and  talk  about 
opportunities  which  they  think  they  ought  to 
have  had,  and  what  great  things  they  might 
have  done  if  these  had  not  been  unjustly  with 
held  from  them.  In  a  country  like  this  almost 
any  young  man  can  find  as  much  of  opportunity 
as  he  needs  to  start  with.  I'll  tell  something, 
if  you'll  listen,  about  me  and  my  brother  Dave. 

p  209 


210  OLD  TIMES  IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

"We  agreed  that  we'd  have  an  education 
better  than  could  be  got  at  the  neighborhood 
country  school,  beyond  which  our  parents'  means 
could  not  allow  us  to  go.  Dave  was  then  six 
teen  years  old  and  I  fourteen.  We  got  the 
notion  somehow  that  to  be  ripe  scholars  we 
must  know  Latin,  with  which  our  late  teacher 
had  no  acquaintance. 

"  One  day,  after  we  had  been  for  some  time 
speculating  upon  the  subject,  Dave  said:  'Dan, 
my  sakes !  Why  can't  we  teach  ourselves  ?  You 
me,  and  I  you  ?  I  believe  we  can  do  it  if  we'll 
begin  right,  study  hard,  make  good  rules  and 
stick  to  'em/  Now  you  may  not  believe  it ;  but 
that  very  notion  had  been  gradually  forming  in 
my  mind. 

"  So  with  our  own  little  moneys  we  bought 
one  Adams' c Latin  Grammar'  and  one  'Historic 
Sacrse/  and  in  what  holidays  we  got  from  work 
on  the  farm  we  kept  school  and  went  to  school 
in  a  fodder  house  just  behind  the  horse  lot.  At 
the  other  school,  during  the  seasons  father  could 
afford  to  send  us,  we  had  picked  up  a  good  deal 
in  arithmetic  and  English  grammar,  and  it  sur 
prised  and  delighted  us,  that,  principles  of  syntax 
being  much  alike  in  both,  we  found  our  task  less 
difficult  than  we  had  apprehended. 

"  When  mother  found  what  we  were  doing 
(for  we  had  not  told  her  until  fairly  started), 


MUTUAL   SCHOOL-MASTERS  211 

she  besought  father  to  increase  our  holidays. 
At  first  he  refused,  saying  it  was  mere  nonsense, 
Dave's  and  my  attempting  to  teach  each  other 
what  neither  of  us  knew  one  single,  blessed  thing 
about.  Yet,  yielding  to  her  affectionate  persist 
ence,  he  assented,  saying  that,  although  the  work 
on  the  farm  (always  the  case)  was  pressing,  he 
would  give  us,  besides  Saturday,  that  we'd  been 
having,  Tuesday  and  half  of  Thursday.  That 
is,  for  a  while,  to  see  if  anything  was  to  come  of 
it.  If  not,  the  thing  had  to  stop,  at  least  so  far 
as  extra  holidays  were  concerned. 

"  We  agreed,  Dave  and  I,  that  the  discipline 
was  to  be  as  strict  as  that  in  other  schools, 
which  you  and  I  know  was  altogether  of  an 
other  sort  from  the  lax,  persuasive,  cajoling  in 
these  days.  We  were  to  give  and  take  genuine, 
good,  long  lessons,  and  then  get  them.  If  we 
didn't  we  were  to  keep  and  be  kept  in  at  dinner 
hour  and  evening,  and  make  and  be  made  to  get 
them  over  again,  not  omitting  advancing  tasks, 
and  say  and  be  made  to  say  them  to  final  entire 
satisfaction." 

"  Well,"  I  said  during  a  pause  in  the  history, 
"  such  as  that  must  have  been  rather  a  tough 
trial  upon  brotherly  affection,  if  you  and  Dave 
had  very  much  of  that  article.  Didn't  you 
quarrel  sometimes  ?  " 

"  No  more  than  is  common  between  brothers 


212  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

of  nigh  the  same  age,  and  not  as  much  as  we 
did  before  we  set  up  our  joint  concern.  The 
solemn  understanding  was  that  neither  should 
rebel  or  complain  in  words  against  the  other 
while  in  relation  of  pupil  to  master.  We  did 
what  was  more  effectual  than  quarrelling.  Guess 
what  that  was  ?" 

"  I  give  it  up." 

"  Why,  sir,  we  fought." 

"  Fought !  "  I  exclaimed.  Then  I  leaned  my 
head  upon  the  table  between  us,  as  if  I  would 
very  much  like  to  faint. 

"Yes,  sir,"  laughing  with  delight,  he  replied. 
"  That  is,  each  master  whipped  whenever  such 
stimulus  he  judged  to  be  proper  and  necessary. 
No  tapping,  either.  Dave  kept  his  hickory,  and 
I  kept  mine,  not  less  sound  and  seasoned.  He 
laid  on  and  I  laid  on  according  to  judgment  on 
the  merits,  I  should  rather  say  the  demerits  of 
individual  cases.  Occasionally  we  had  to  rub 
our  shoulders  and  legs  from  the  rigor  of  inflic 
tion  ;  but  we  didn't  break  our  rule,  even  by  dis 
respectful  remonstration.  Of  course,  such  as 
that  occurred  seldom  and  only  during  the  first 
weeks  of  the  session.  The  interest  imparted  in 
the  work,  soon  made  that  sort  of  discipline  seem 
unnecessary.  In  three  months'  time  we  got 
through  'Historic  Sacrse,'  parsing  as  we  went 
(you  know  the  Bible  helped  us  out  mightily 


MUTUAL   SCHOOL-MASTERS  213 

with  that),  and  before  the  year  was  out  were 
reading  easily  in  Caesar's  '  Commentaries '  and 
beginning  to  tackle  '  Cicero  on  Catiline/  I'm 
through." 

"That  is  a  remarkable  history/'  I  exclaimed 
with  heartiest  emphasis.  "What  became  of 
your  brother?" 

"He  studied  medicine,  and  is,  and  for  years 
has  been  considered,  one  of  the  best  physicians 
in  the  town  where  he  first  settled.  Oh,  no; 
there's  nothing  very  remarkable  about  it.  Many 
a  poor  boy,  with  scantier  means,  but  with  supe 
rior  gifts,  has  done  far  better  than  Dave  and  I. 
It  only  tends  to  show  what  can  be  done  by  a 
youth  of  slim  means  and  moderate  understand 
ing  by  searching  for  and  making  for  himself 
opportunities  instead  of  mouthing  complaints 
against  fortune  for  not  bestowing  them  gra 
tuitously." 


MISS  CLISBY'S  ROMANCE 


MISS  CLISBY'S  KOMANCE 

—  "  Like  a  dull  actor  now, 
I  have  forgot  my  part,  and  I  am  out."  —  CORIOLANUS. 


As  to  the  age  of  Miss  Margaret  Clisby,  the 
highest  figure  put  down  among  those  who  have 
known  her  longest  is  forty.  To  me,  who  see  her 
now  and  then  promenading  on  Charles  Street, 
she  does  not  look  a  day  over  thirty.  They  say 
she  is  even  more  handsome  than  when  she  was 
just  grown  up,  her  tall,  slender  figure  being  so 
graceful,  her  blonde  cheek  so  smooth,  her  lips  so 
pink,  and  her  teeth  so  sound  and  white.  Since 
the  death  of  her  last  surviving  parent,  fifteen 
years  back,  she  has  been  living  with  a  younger 
sister,  wife  of  Mr.  Summers,  near  Mount  Vernon 
Place.  There  was  one,  only  one,  romance  in  her 
youngest  womanhood,  whose  ending,  I  have 
heard  whispered,  seemed  for  quite  a  time  to 
weigh  on  her  mind.  However  that  may  have 
been,  now  she  looks  as  well  content  as  her  sister, 
or  any  other  woman  having  husband  and  chil 
dren  to  entire  satisfaction.  She  owns  a  good 

217 


218  OLD  TIMES   IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

property,  and  it  is  well  invested.  Whenever 
one  of  her  intimate  friends,  in  jest  or  otherwise, 
hints  of  her  marrying  on  some  fine  day,  she  does 
not  blush,  but,  smiling  and  fanning  herself, 
answers  in  words  which  give  no  intimation  of 
any  special  view  or  expectation  indulged  in  that 
behalf.  It  is  just  the  same  if  any  special  man 
is  mentioned,  even  when  it  is  Abbott  Sinclair. 

On  the  opposite  side,  and  about  equidistant 
from  the  Place,  the  Sinclairs  live.  Mrs.  Sinclair, 
who  was  Miss  Clisby's  cousin,  died  some  years 
ago.  After  a  decent  period  it  began  to  be  sus 
pected  that  the  survivor  was  beginning  to  turn 
his  thoughts  in  the  direction  of  another  marriage. 
There  seemed  no  urgent  reason  why  he  ought 
not.  He  was  only  a  little  past  forty-five,  keep 
ing  in  his  stout  physique  most  of  the  activity 
and  even  the  good  looks  that  he  had  always 
carried.  Then  Eliza,  his  oldest  daughter,  nine 
teen,  was  engaged,  while  the  other,  Sarah,  a  year 
and  a  half  younger,  was  too  handsome,  too  sure 
of  abundant  provision,  already  too  much  followed 
by  young  men,  to  be  kept  from  being  the  same 
before  very  long.  And  so  the  fact  was  that  Mr. 
Sinclair,  even  for  a  longer  while  than  he  would 
have  admitted  to  any  person  except  one,  had 
been  indulging  the  sentiments  of  which  he  was 
suspected. 

Now,   Eliza   felt  herself  intensely   concerned 


MISS  CLISBY'S  ROMANCE  219 

about  it,  particularly  on  Sarah's  account.  At 
least,  that  was  the  way  in  which  she  used  to  put 
her  objection  when  speaking  among  relatives  and 
friends  of  the  family.  Devotedly  fond  of  her 
cousin  Margaret,  she  would  have  placed  her 
among  those  from  whom  she  sought  comfort  and 
counsel,  but  for  the  delicacy  which  was  in  the 
whole  thing.  Because  there  was  not  one  among 
Miss  Clisby's  friends  and  acquaintances  who,  if 
asked  to  express  opinion  about  the  possibility  of 
her  being  won  in  marriage,  would  not  have  given 
it,  answering  candidly  that,  if  the  right  man  was 
to  appear  and  offer  himself,  she,  no  matter  how 
coolly  she  smiled  and  fanned  herself,  young,  gay, 
lovely  woman  that  she  was,  would  find  it  both  to 
her  interest  and  her  pleasure  to  say  yes  ;  perhaps 
not  right  down,  but  in  time ;  and  if  he  had  some 
ardor  and  knew  how  to  employ  persuasive  words, 
in  no  very  long  time.  After  thinking  over  the 
matter,  what  time  their  thoughts  were  not  upon 
their  own,  and  after  several  talks  with  each 
other,  the  sisters  decided  between  them  upon  a 
compromise  which,  under  the  circumstances, 
would  seem  to  come  nearer  than  anything  else 
they  could  think  to  being  satisfactory.  That 
was  for  their  father,  if  he  should  prove  to  be 
absolutely  fixed  upon  taking  another  wife,  to 
marry  their  cousin  Margaret.  Having  settled 
that,  they  seemed  to  feel  somewhat  relieved,  and 


220  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

awaited  the  first  good  opportunity  to  make  him 
acquainted  with  their  views  of  the  situation. 
This  occurred  very  soon.  One  night  when  Eliza's 
lover  and  Sarah's  beaus  had  been  dismissed  by 
nine  o'clock,  on  excuse  of  having  some  rather 
important  domestic  matters  on  hand,  they  re 
paired  to  the  library,  where  they  imparted  and 
received  the  usual  affectionate  greetings. 

"You  retire  early  to-night,  my  dears,"  said 
the  father.  "  How  was  it  ?  Did  you  tire  of 
your  visitors,  or  they  of  you?" 

66 1  don't  think  they  got  so  very  tired  of  us, 
father,"  answered  Eliza ;  "  but  Sarah  and  I 
didn't  feel  much  like  entertaining,  having  some 
thing  on  our  minds  we  wanted  to  talk  with  you 
about  —  ahem!  " 

"Ay?  Be  seated,  then,  and  let's  hear  what 
it  is." 

"Father,  people  say  that  you  are  thinking 
of  marrying  again.  Sarah  and  I  hope  it  isn't 
so." 

He  rose,  took  a  cigar  from  a  box  on  the  man 
tel,  was  very  slow  in  lighting  it,  and  when  he 
was  again  seated  said : 

"Why?" 

"Because  it  would  seem  like  being  hard  upon 
us,  Sarah  particularly." 

"  Hard  on  both !  Sarah  particularly !  I  can't 
see  how  it  should  be  so  on  either.  You're  think- 


MISS  CLISBY'S  KOMANCE  221 

ing  very  strongly  about  marrying,  yourself. 
Sarah,  too,  for  aught  I  know.  If  she  isn't,  she 
will  be,  and  when  both  of  you  are  off,  if  it's  a  fair 
question  to  ask,  I'd  like  to  know  what's  to  become 
of  me  here  by  myself  ?  Is  it  to  be  taken  for 
granted  that  a  man  in  the  situation  I  shall  be 
then  has  no  right  to  try  to  make  some  sort  of 
provision  for  himself  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  dearest,"  she  said,  quickly,  and 
suddenly  decided  that  it  would  be  best  to  proffer 
the  compromise  at  once,  and  so  she  continued : 
"  Sarah  and  I  have  been  thinking  —  indeed, 
we've  been  thinking  a  great  deal  about  it.  Tak 
ing  it  for  granted  that  in  all  human  probability 
you  might  think  of  seeking  another  wife,  know 
ing  what  an  affectionate  heart  you've  always 
had,  and  how  good  you've  been  to  us,  we  have 
made  up  our  minds  that  we  would  try  to  be 
reconciled  if  you  married  —  a  certain  lady  that 
we  love  very  much,  that  mother  loved  very 
much,  and  whom  we  know  you've  always  thought 
a  great  deal  of." 

"  That  so  ?     Who  can  that  be  ?  " 

"  Cousin  Margaret  Clisby." 

He  sighed,  then  turning  to  face  Eliza  directly, 
said : 

"  She's  the  very  woman  I  want ;  but  I  don't 
believe  she  would  have  me.  If  I  did,  I  would 
ask  her  to-morrow." 


222  OLD  TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

This  brought  the  girls  entirely  on  his  side,  and 
Eliza  said  with  firmness  : 

"  I  believe  she  would.  I'd  be  willing  to  bet 
my  very  life  on  it.  She's  not  too  old ;  she's  as 
affectionate  as  she  can  be  ;  and  although  she's 
got  a-plenty  to  live  on,  you're  rich,  and  you're 
perfectly  healthy,  and  for  your  age  the  very 
handsomest,  youngest-looking,  best-mannered 
man  in  this  whole  town;  and  my  opinion  of 
Cousin  Margaret  is  that  she  has  too  much  sense 
to  turn  away  from  you  if  you  were  to  ask  her. 
I'm  just  delighted  to  find  how  we  agree  about 
her.  If  I  were  in  your  place,  I'd  go  there  right 
away  —  to-morrow  morning.  Will  you  ?  " 

"  That  I  won't  —  not  upon  that  errand." 

"Why,  father,  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so 
scary.  When  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say ;  perhaps  never." 

"Well,  that  is  the  most  surprising  thing  I 
ever  —  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  you, 
father.  It's  the  first  case  of  timidity  I've  ever 
seen  in  you.  Then,  if  you  won't  go  there,  /will, 
if  you'll  let  me,  and  I'll  find  out  how  she  stands. 
What  do  you  say  ?  Perhaps  that  would  be  best. 
She  will  know  how  Sarah  and  I  feel  about  it,  and, 
as  it  were,  put  her  in  readiness  when  you  go." 

After  reflecting  several  moments  he  said : 

"I've  no  objection,  my  child ;  I  agree  to  in 
dorse  all  you  promise  as  to  what  I'll  endeavor 


223 

to  do  for  Margaret's  happiness  if  she  will  marry 


me." 


"  All  right ;  I  was  going  there  to-morrow  any 
how,  and  I'll  bet  you  all  I'm  worth,  or  expect  to 
be,  that  I  bring  you  good  news,  or  at  least  a  pros 
pect  of  it,  if  not  a  promise  and  a  vision.  Now, 
Sarah,  we  can  go  to  bed,  and  go  to  sleep  as  soon 
as  our  heads  touch  the  pillows." 

When  they  had  gone  he  sat  smoking  and  mus 
ing  until  very  late.  Finally  he  rose,  and  said  to 
himself  aloud : 

"I'd  give  all  I  have  and  hope  to  obtain,  if 
this  mission  could  succeed ;  but  it  will  come  to 
naught." 

II 

DESPITE  the  fact  that  her  father,  whom  she 
would  have  preferred  to  remain  single,  was  a 
party  in  the  case  of  marriage  brokage  on  Eliza's 
hands,  she  felt  that  it  was  very  interesting,  even 
to  the  degree  of  spiciness.  She  knew  she  had 
uncommon  persuasive  ways,  and,  dearly  loving 
both  of  those  upon  whose  interests  she  was  in 
tent,  determined  to  use  them,  if  found  necessary, 
to  their  utmost,  and  trusted  in  her  ability  to  com 
pass  what,  everything  considered,  would  be  an 
excellent  thing  all  round.  So  early  the  next 
morning  she  went  upon  her  errand.  Meeting  her 
lover  on  the  street,  she  stopped  to  say : 


224  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

"Here  you  are,  like  another  bad  penny. 
Don't  you  ask  where  I'm  going;  I'm  on  busi 
ness,  and  it's  as  delicate  as  important.  I  hadn't 
time  to  say  even  that  much." 

"Well,  but,  Eliza  - 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  go  to  well-butting ;  I'm  in 
a  big  hurry.  I'll  tell  you  some  time,  maybe,  if 
you'll  be  good.  I  must  go  now.  By-by!  "  And 
she  glided  away. 

After  one  warm  embrace  and  two  warm  kisses, 
and  after  mutual  congratulations  upon  good 
healths  and  first-rate  looks,  and  after  the  two 
had  gotten  off  to  themselves  for  the  confidential 
chat  Eliza  had  announced  upon  entrance  to  be 
on  her  mind,  she  thus  began : 

"  Oh,  Cousin  Margaret,  I've  got  something  so 
interesting  to  tell  you,  and  it's  about  love !  " 

"Interesting  subject,  my  dear;  but  I  supposed 
you  had  gotten  over  the  most  exciting  stage." 

"  Oh,  it's  not  my  case  at  all.  I  met  Tom  just 
now  by  the  Monument,  but  I  hardly  more  than 
spoke  to  him,  I  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  to 
you.  If  I  were  to  give  you  twenty  guesses  I 
doubt  if  you  would  hit  upon  it  —  although  you 
might,  that  is,  if  you  have  been  thinking  about 
it  at  all.  Well,  I  won't  palaver  about  it,  as  they 
say,  but  tell  you  right  away  that  we,  Sarah  and 
I,  have  found  out,  and  only  last  night,  that 
father  seriously  wishes  to  marry  again.  And 


MISS  CLISBY'S  ROMANCE  225 

don't  you  know  that  we  were  distressed,  and, 
indeed,  scared  half  to  death,  until  we  found  out 
who  it  was  he's  in  love  with  ?  —  for  I  tell  you 
now  that  he  is  in  love,  deep,  deep.  I  never 
knew  anybody  to  be  more  so,  never.  Have  you 
any  idea  who  she  is?  No  ?  I  suppose  I  oughtn't 
to  ask  you,  under  the  circumstances ;  but  I  hope 
in  my  heart  it  won't  surprise  you  very  much. 
Why,  darling,  it  is  your  own  precious  self,  whom 
I've  always  loved  like  my  own  mother,  and 
whom  it  is  now  my  heart's  desire  to  love  as  my 
own  mother ;  and  last  night  Sarah  and  I  actu 
ally  added  it  in  our  prayers." 

Then  Eliza  gave  a  filial  hug  as  cordial  as  any 
prospective  stepmother  in  the  whole  world  ought 
to  be  satisfied  with. 

The  response  was  not  such  as  the  ardent  girl 
had  hoped.  There  was  no  shrinking.  Miss 
Clisby  simply  let  herself  be  encircled  in  the 
round  arms,  and  then  smiled  blandly  in  polite 
recognition  of  the  endearment.  Conscious  of 
instant  diminution  of  her  own  warmth,  Eliza, 
resuming  her  seat,  looked  at  her  cousin  with 
affectionate,  eager  anxiety.  The  latter,  without 
marked  coldness,  but  as  if  on  a  matter  of  mere 
fact,  said  : 

"  Eliza,  your  father  has  not  mentioned  such  a 
thing  to  me." 

"  No,  dearest ;  but  it  was  because  of  the  deli- 


226  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

cate  respect  he  has  for  you  along  with  his  affec 
tion,  and  because  of  his  fear  that  it  might  not  be 
agreeable  to  you,  at  least  so  soon  after  mother's 
death.  But  that  is  now  four  years  gone,  and 
only  this  morning  father  told  me  that  mother, 
several  times  during  her  long  sickness,  said  to 
him  that,  not  only  on  mine  and  Sarah's  account, 
but  on  his  own,  she  hoped  that  after  her  death 
he  and  you  would  marry.  To  think  that  dear 
father  has  kept  this  to  himself  so  long !  I 
declare  I  think  he  has  behaved  beautifully,  con 
sidering  how  dearly  he  has  been  loving  you. 
And  as  for  a  husband,  I  don't  know  father's 
equal.  That  I  don't,  and  never  expect  to." 

Miss  Margaret  was  doing  a  nice  little  some 
thing  of  embroidery.  She  stopped,  folded  her 
stuff,  laid  it  upon  the  table  by  which  she  was 
sitting,  then  said  : 

"Eliza,  I'll  give  you  a  bit  of  my  history,  if 
you  care  to  listen  to  it.  It's  of  no  interest  to 
anybody  but  me,  and  to  me  only  as  a  recollec 
tion  which  has  long  ceased  to  be  painful.  Still 
I  think  of  it  sometimes,  as  I  suppose  almost 
everybody  of  my  age  does  about  things  which 
used  to  seem  of  some  value.  Do  you  think  you 
can  bear  to  hear  it  ?  I'll  make  the  story  brief 
enough,  I  promise  you." 

"  That  I  do,  Cousin  Margaret ;  I  wonder  you 
could  ask ! " 


MISS  CLISBY'S  ROMANCE  227 

She  placed  her  elbow  upon  the  table,  leaned 
her  head  upon  the  tips  of  her  thumb  and  fingers, 
and  said : 

"When  I  was  a  girl  about  your  age  —  and 
that  was  long  before  you  were  born  —  a  young 
man  made  love  to  me.  At  least  he  professed 
to  do  so,  and  I  fully  trusted  his  asseverations. 
He  was  extremely  handsome  and  in  all  respects 
entirely  personable.  I  soon  yielded  to  his  per 
suasions  and  became  entirely  devoted  to  him. 
It  was  all  so  irresistible,  and  seemed  to  me  so 
natural  and  so  right,  that  I  made  no  —  indeed, 
it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  it  would  be  prudent 
or  even  proper  to  make  efforts  to  hide  any  of 
the  affection  I  had  for  him.  It  seemed  to  me 
as  if  my  individual  being  was  subsiding  day  by 
day  and  being  absorbed  into  his.  If  I  had  been 
wise  —  no,  I  will  not  say  that;  but  if  I  had 
been  cunning,  and  made  myself  seem  to  have 
been  won  with  difficulty,  and  when  won,  in  dan 
ger  of  losing,  except  through  continual  devoted 
service — it  is  possible  that  I  could  have  kept  my 
lover.  The  being  without  these  faculties,  and 
something  else  besides,  began  in  time  to  estrange 
him.  No  marked  change  had  occurred  in  his 
words,  spoken  or  written ;  but  he  began,  as  I 
thought,  to  look  upon  and  accept  my  devoted- 
ness  as  something  to  which  he  was  easily  entitled, 
and  to  respond  to  my  demonstration  witli  gradu- 


228  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

ally  lessening  cordiality.  Hurt  by  his  manner, 
I  resolved  to  try  the  strength  of  his  feeling ;  so 
one  night,  as  he  was  about  to  leave  the  house, 
I  said  that,  after  all,  I  was  doubtful  if  we  were 
suited  to  each  other.  The  remonstrance  I  hoped 
for  did  not  come — not  a  word  of  it.  He  only 
said  that  if  such  were  my  views  we  might  as 
well  separate.  I  replied  —  it  was  all  I  could  do 
—  that  such  a  course  seemed  to  me  not  only 
prudent,  but  unavoidable.  He  left  me  at  once, 
and  never  returned.  Fact  was,  he  had  already 
turned  away  from  me  in  his  heart,  and  to  a  girl 
who,  being  very  lovely,  was  a  very  dear  —  friend. 
He  did  not  make  known  to  her,  at  least  in  words, 
the  feeling  he  had  for  her  until  after  our  separa 
tion,  and  she  would  not  listen  to  his  suit  until 
she  had  talked  with  me,  whose  relation  to  him 
she  had  known.  I  begged  her  to  regard  me  as 
out  of  all  consideration,  and  counselled,  if  she 
could  love  him  well  enough,  to  accept  him.  She 
did  so,  and  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that 
they  lived  happily  together  what  time  the  rela 
tion  continued." 

Here  she  paused,  and  looked  as  if  she  were 
hesitating  whether  or  not  she  should  say  more. 
The  slight  tinge  that  had  been  on  her  cheek 
during  her  brief  narrative  faded,  and  her  sub 
sequent  words  were  spoken  with  deliberateness, 
as  if  it  were  a  house,  or  some  other  item  of 
property,  offered  for  her  purchase. 


MISS  CLISBY'S  KOMANCE  229 

With  something  of  a  smile,  looking  at  Eliza, 
she  continued : 

"  Since  then  I  have  not  once  thought  of  mar 
riage.  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand 
how  any  one,  particularly  a  woman,  could  love 
more  than  once.  A  love  that  is  true  love,  it 
lias  always  seemed  to  me,  either  lives,  flourishes, 
and  becomes  fruitful,  or  it  withers  and  perishes. 
The  last  is  what  mine  did.  Of  it  I  may  say 
thus  much,  and  I  will  say  it  to  you,  that  after 
some  years  came  a  period  when  there  was  no 
legal  or  moral  impediment  to  its  renewal ;  for 
the  friend  who,  without  any  misconduct  of  her 
own,  but  with  my  consent  and  counsel,  sup 
planted  me,  died,  and  I  have  been  reliably  in 
formed  that  her  surviving  husband  would  be 
willing  for  me  to  take  the  place  left  by  her. 
That  is  as  impossible  as  if  it  had  been  he  who 
had  died  instead  of  her.  Perhaps  he  knows  this 
already.  If  not,  he  will  know  it  if  he  should 
ever  seek  to  communicate  with  me  upon  such 
a  subject.  In  all  this  I  have  never  been  con 
scious  of  any  feeling  of  resentment.  I  admit 
that  for  a  time  my  disappointment  oppressed 
me  sorely ;  but  I  grew  to  regard  it  as  the  des 
tiny  appointed  by  Heaven  for  me,  and  so  accept 
ing  it,  I  have  been,  and  I  am  now,  very  happy. 
If,  after  what  I  have  experienced,  I  were  to 
suffer  myself  to  be  persuaded  to  marry,  I  feel 


230  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

quite  sure  that  nothing  but  disaster  would  come 
of  it.  But  that  can  never  be.  And  now,  my 
dear,  I've  told  you  what  few  persons  know,  and 
what  I  had  not  expected  to  tell  to  anybody.  I 
know  I  can  rely  upon  your  loyalty  and  your 
discretion." 

"  That  you  can,  Cousin  Margaret.  But  I  hope 
you  will  not  object  to  my  intimating  to  father 
some  of  the  things  you  have  said  to  me? " 

"  You  may  tell  him  all,  Eliza,  every  word ; 
but  him  only.  Indeed,  I'd  rather  you  would  do 
it  than  not,  so  that  he  can  put  me  at  once  out 
of  all  his  reckonings." 

When  Eliza  had  reported  this  conversation  she 
added : 

"And  oh,  father,  I  never  saw  Cousin  Mar 
garet  so  fine !  Diana  at  the  fountain  of  Gar- 
gaphia,  gazing  at  Actseon  as  he  fled  before  his 
hounds,  looked  not  more  commanding,  nor,  to  my 
belief,  was  more  unapproachable  to  a  man.  Did 
you  know  the  one  who  treated  her  so  ?  He  must 
have  been  purblind  or  parted  from  his  senses." 

"  Your  Cousin  Margaret  must  answer  that, 
my  child,  if  she  will,  as  most  probably  she  will 
not ;  and  my  advice  to  you  would  be  not  to  ask 
her." 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear !  it's  a  great  disappointment 
to  me  and  Sarah." 

"Hah  !  "  he  ejaculated  when  she  went  out  of 


MISS  CLISBY'S  ROMANCE  231 

the  room ;  "  Eliza  did  not  know  how  keen  was 
the  point  of  her  simile.  I  feared  it  —  knew  it, 
indeed.  It  was  a  sore  mistake  to  let  such  a 
jewel  drop  from  my  hands;  but  Margaret  Clisby 
shall  never  see  me  desireless  nor  utterly  hopeless 
of  recovering  her.  I  will  pay  that  much  tribute 
to  the  past,  and,  if  it  must  be,  make  that  sacri 
fice,  living  and  dying  alone,  as  I  am  now." 

This  was  two  years  ago.  Much  of  his  time 
since  then  has  been  spent  by  Mr.  Sinclair  abroad, 
the  house  being  kept  by  Eliza,  who,  besides  her 
husband  and  baby,  partially  looks  after  Sarah. 
The  baby's  name  is  Margaret  Clisby,  and  her 
namesake  and  godmother  is  intensely  fond  of 
her.  There  is  that  in  Miss  Clisby 's  face  and 
manner,  when  in  the  presence  of  her  former 
lover,  or  when  his  name  is  called  within  her 
hearing,  that  indicates  something,  none  can  say 
precisely  what.  Eliza  has  told  her  over  and 
over,  with,  as  she  tries  to  believe,  gradually 
increased  impunity  from  frown  or  gesture  of 
remonstrance,  that  her  own  happiness  can  never 
be  complete  until  her  dear  father  is  provided 
for,  and  in  the  only  way  possible.  There  are 
those  who  confidently  profess  that  this  is  to  be. 
Others  shake  their  heads,  but  in  confessedly  in 
distinct  doubt.  I  have  my  opinion ;  but  I  have 
been  so  often  mistaken  about  such  matters  that 
I  decline  to  express  it  herein. 


ISHMAEL 


ISHMAEL 

IT  was  in  the  month  of  May,  1866.  At  a 
table  in  a  bar-room  of  the  St.  Nicholas  Hotel  in 
New  York,  Charles  Dupont,  a  medium-sized, 
bright-looking  young  man  from  Charleston, 
South  Carolina,  was  with  a  companion  sipping  a 
mint-julep.  A  few  minutes  after  they  had  been 
seated,  another  came  in,  and,  after  looking 
about  and  ordering  beer  and  a  sandwich,  went 
to  a  chair  by  a  table  near  that  at  which  were 
seated  the  two  first  mentioned.  He  was  of 
olive  complexion,  that  with  his  well-cut  features 
and  shining  brown  hair  and  moustache,  made 
him  strikingly  handsome  despite  a  pallor  which 
indicated  that  he  was  not  in  sound  health.  He 
took  his  luncheon  slowly,  and  apparently  with 
little  enjoyment,  occasionally  glancing  towards 
the  other  table,  and  once,  although  he  looked  in 
the  opposite  direction,  listening  with  evident 
interest  to  the  conversation  there.  It  was  at 
the  point  when  Dupont  informed  his  companion, 
Henry  Morris,  a  New  York  merchant  whom  he 
had  known  before  the  war  but  not  met  again 

235 


236  OLD   TIMES   IN  MIDDLE  GEORGIA 

until  now,  that  he  would  be  on  his  way  to  Liver 
pool  by  the  Cunard  steamer  Cuba,  which  was  to 
sail  after  three  days.  Almost  immediately  after 
this  announcement  the  stranger  rose  and  went 
out. 

"Do  you  know  that  young  man?"  asked 
Dupont,  pointing  as  he  stood  at  the  bar  settling 
his  bill. 

"No,"  answered  Morris.  "I've  been  seeing 
him  about  the  hotels  for  a  year  or  so,  oftener 
than  anywhere  else  at  the  New  York.,  where 
people  from  the  South  generally  stay.  Once  I 
overheard  him  as  he  was  asking  somebody  there 
about  Charleston.  I  don't  think  he  has  any 
special  business,  and  I  suspect  he  has  money,  as 
he  always  seems  deliberate  in  his  gait  and  wears 
the  very  nicest  clothes.  It  is  evident  that  he  is 
an  invalid." 

"  I  am  sure  I  saw  him  in  Charleston  several 
times  last  winter.  That's  why  I  asked  you 
about  him.  Yes,  Morris,"  he  continued,  dis-j 
missing  this. for  a  more  interesting  theme,  "I'm 
trying  for  what  can  be  done  to  build  up  the 
cotton  business  of  Dupont  Brothers  again.  Poor 
father,  you  know,  was  killed  in  the  war ;  Uncle 
Pierre  took  me  into  the  firm  in  his  place,  and  he 
is  sending  me  to  Liverpool,  hoping  that  I  may 
get  backing  besides  that  already  promised,  and 
possibly  stumble  on  other  opportunities." 


ISHMAEL  237 

After  some  further  conversation  they  sep 
arated. 

That  night  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  as  Dupont, 
seated  at  the  same  table,  was  ruminating  with 
his  late  cigar,  the  person  whom  he  had  seen  in 
the  forenoon  came  in  again,  and  taking  a  chair  by 
the  nearest  table,  lighted  a  cigarette.  Dupont, 
thinking  that  he  ought  to  do  as  he  would  like  to 
be  done  by,  thus  soliloquized  : 

"  That  man,  being,  in  my  opinion,  either  a 
Southerner  or  a  sympathizer  with  Southern 
people,  wants  to  make  my  acquaintance.  If  so, 
I'll  give  him  a  chance." 

Turning  directly  to  him,  he  said : 

"  Your  pardon,  please,  sir ;  but  my  friend 
with  whom  perhaps  you  saw  me  this  morning 
said  that  not  long  ago  he  heard  you  inquiring  at 
the  New  York  Hotel  about  Charleston  people. 
There  is  my  home." 

A  grateful  smile  came  upon  the  man's  face, 
and  he  answered : 

"  Yes,  the  bartender  this  morning  said  to  me 
that  he  thought  you  were  the  gentleman  whose 
name  I  noticed  on  the  hotel-register,  and  I  had 
been  intending,  when  I  could  find  you  disen 
gaged,  to  beg  the  privilege  of  asking  you  a  few 
questions  about  my  native  town.  I  was  an 
infant  when  I  was  brought  away,  but  ever  since 
I  have  been  old  enough  I  have  felt  much  interest 
in  it.  My  name  is  Corson." 


238  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

"  And  mine  Dupont.  Won't  you  move  your 
chair  to  this  table  ?" 

With  the  faintest  delay  of  hesitation  he  did 
so,  and  quickly  said: 

"  I  haven't  been  very  well,  and  I  am  making 
arrangements  to  go  abroad,  hoping  for  good  of 
some  sort  from  the  voyage." 

"Ay?  That's  what  I've  been  doing  also. 
When  do  you  sail  ?  " 

"  I  have  engaged  for  next  Tuesday,  on  the 
Cuba." 

"Indeed!  We  were  destined  to  make  ac 
quaintance,  even  if  we  had  not  met  here.  I  go 
on  that  steamer." 

Corson  nodded  and  smiled  as  if  he  were 
pleased  at  the  announcement. 

"Have  you  ever  crossed  the  sea?"  asked 
Dupont. 

"  Yes,  several  times." 

"  Do  you  get  sea-sick  ?  " 

"  No  ;  that  is,  not  much  so.  Neptune,  noting 
probably  that  I  am  rather  a  poor  subject,  spares 
me  that  trouble." 

After  chatting  for  nearly  an  hour  about 
Charleston  and  the  prospective  voyage,  Corson 
rose  to  go. 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Dupont,  "  to  have  met  so 
soon  a  fellow-voyager,  particularly  a  native 
Charlestonian." 


ISHMAEL  239 

"The  pleasure  is  mutual,  Mr.  Dupont,  I  as 
sure  you.  As  I  shall  have  some  matters  to 
attend  to  between  this  and  Tuesday,  I  may 
not  see  you  before  then;  that  is,  unless  I  can 
serve  you  in  any  way.  If  I  can,  I  beg  you 
to  say  so." 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you.  What  little  busi 
ness  I  have  in  New  York  can  easily  be  de 
spatched  without  assistance." 

"  I'll  leave  with  you  my  card.  If  you  should 
find  that  I  could  help  you  in  any  way,  I'll 
really  thank  you  to  call  or  send  a  messenger. 
Good-night." 

On  the  card  was  written  "  Mr.  C.  D.  Corson, 
French's  Hotel." 

When  Dupont  got  to  the  Cunard  wharf  on 
Tuesday,  he  was  pleased  to  find  that  his  new 
acquaintance  was  waiting  for  him  before  coming 
on  board.  When  both,  after  visiting  their 
berths,  met  again  upon  the  deck,  Corson,  lead 
ing  to  a  couple  of  chairs,  said  : 

"Did  you  know  that  you  will  need  to  have 
your  own  special  chair  ?  I  guess  you  did 
not." 

"Why,  no.  I've  never  been  on  a  boat  but 
three  or  four  times,  when  going  to  Savannah 
and  returning.  I  supposed  that  the  ship  pro 
vided  seats." 

"Not   specially,  and  not  comfortably.      I'm 


240  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

something  of  a  traveller,  and  know  what  things 
are  indispensable  to  comfort.  Now,  this  is  my 
chair,  and  that  is  yours.  Mine,  you  see,  is  not 
new,  having  crossed  the  ocean  before.  Yours, 
which  is  just  like  it,  I  had  brought  from  my 
quarters  this  morning." 

"Why — why,  you  embarrass  me  by  such 
thoughtful  kindness." 

"  Please  let  it  not  be  so.  We  are  natives  of 
the  same  town,  and  where  my  experience  can 
be  of  service  to  you  I  think  you  should  use  it, 
just  as  in  like  conditions  I  would  get  advantage 
from  yours." 

At  once  intimacy  between  them  was  started, 
which  grew  constantly  more  cordial.  Dupont 
was  touched  by  what  seemed  affection  in  this 
man  so  handsome,  so  well  mannered,  so  cultured. 
For  he  soon  found  that  his  education,  mostly 
obtained  abroad,  was  of  the  very  best.  He  was 
entirely  discreet  in  his  attentions,  mingling, 
although  to,  less  extent  than  Dupont,  with  the 
other  (but  only  the  male)  passengers ;  yet  his 
satisfaction  grew  more  and  more  manifest  when 
he  was  in  Dupont's  company  alone. 

On  the  second  day  Dupont,  most  unexpectedly 
to  himself,  was  prostrated  by  sea-sickness,  that 
malady  which,  considering  the  briefness  of  its 
duration  and  the  absence  of  all  sympathy  from 
others,  the  well  and  the  sick,  is  perhaps  of  all  that 


ISHMAEL  241 

a  man  of  sound  body  is  ever  tormented  with 
the  most  disgusting,  depressing,  and  demoraliz 
ing.  In  this  Corson  tended  him  as  a  mother 
tends  her  sick  infant,  and  when  the  patient 
became  fairly  convalescent  he  declared  to  the 
constant  nurse  that  he  loved  him  like  a  brother. 

"  Bless  your  heart  for  saying  it !  Now  you 
need  champagne,  of  which  I  am  going  presently 
to  bring  you  some  of  the  best." 

"That  is  capital,"  said  Dupont  when  he  had 
tasted  it.  "  I  think  I'll  give  our  steward  an 
extra  shilling  for  this." 

(t  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  put  in 
a  basket  six  bottles  for  this  very  contingency." 

"  Now  just  see  here,  Corson,  —  " 

"Don't  call  me  that:  call  me  Charles." 

"  You  say  so  ?  Then  I  will ;  but  you  shall  do 
the  same  with  me ;  for  my  name  is  Charles  too. 
But  it  seems  to  me  there  ought  to  be  a  limit  to 
this  one-sided  goodness." 

"  It  is  nothing ;  but  if  you  think  it  some 
thing,  you  will  pay  me  back  in  kind  some  time, 
—  after  I'm  dead,  if  not  before." 

The  smile  with  which  he  said  this  was  so  sad 
that  Dupont  made  no  answer. 

By  the  time  they  reached  Liverpool  each 
knew  as  much  as  the  other  was  disposed  to  tell 
of  his  antecedents.  Each  was  an  only  child, 
both  of  whose  parents  were  deceased.  Brought 


242  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

away  an  infant,  Corson,  when  a  lad  of  fourteen, 
had  been  taken  to  Marseilles,  where  the  family 
had  dwelt  several  years,  during  which  he  was 
getting  his  education.  Since  he  had  become  of 
age  the  weakness  of  physical  constitution  in 
herited  from  his  mother  had  hindered  his  going 
into  business,  and  he  had  been  living  upon  the 
income  derived  from  property  left  at  her  death 
a  few  years  back. 

They  got  lodgings  in  adjoining  rooms  at 
the  Adelphi  Hotel,  and  meals  at  one  of  the 
restaurants  near  the  Exchange.  Corson  took 
the  liveliest  interest  in  Dupont's  reports  of  pro 
gress  in  his  mission.  One  night,  when  they  had 
been  there  about  a  fortnight,  while  together  in 
the  smoking-room,  he  said,  evidently  with  some 
hesitation : 

"  Charles,  could  you  use  five  or  ten  thousand 
dollars  to  advantage  ?  " 

"  That  I  could.     Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  —  indeed,  I  thought  during  the  voy 
age  and  since  of  doing  so,  but  decided  to  wait 
somewhat  longer  —  because  it  would  be  entirely 
convenient  and  agreeable  to  me  to  advance  to 
you  either  of  those  sums." 

"  My  God,  Corson  !  " 

"  Not  Corson." 

"Well,  then,  Charles.  Do  you  take  me  for 
one  who  would  let  a  man  whom  he  has  known 


ISHMAEL  243 

for  only  a  month  advance  him  money  without 
assured  good  securities  ?" 

"  Have  you,  or  has  not  your  firm,  property  on 
which  you  could  put  a  mortgage  ?  I  ask  only 
for  the  sake  of  the  feeling  you  might  have 
in  the  matter.  I  should  have  no  apprehension 
about  the  loan,  fully  trusting  in  your  integrity 
and  your  ability  to  discharge  it." 

"  No,  neither  I  nor  the  firm  own  any  property 
except  such  as  is  already  covered  for  as  much  as 
it  will  stand.  I  couldn't  think  of  accepting  such 
a  loan  from  you,  and  I  hope  you'll  not  mention 
it  again." 

"  Then  I  will  not.  I  am  not  rich ;  but  I  have 
some  investments  which  I  could  easily  call  in, 
and  it  occurred  to  me  that  if  I  could  assist  you 
to  some  extent,  I'd  like  to  do  it." 

"  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart ;  but  I  am 
sure  that  brief  reflection  will  convince  you  that 
I  am  right." 

The  subject  was  not  alluded  to  again. 

A  temporary  position  on  'Change  was  obtained 
for  Dupont  by  an  influential  friend,  who  advised 
him  to  remain  in  Liverpool  until  the  winter 
should  set  in.  Cor  son  during  the  summer 
months  made  several  excursions  to  leading  cities 
in  Great  Britain  and  France.  But  these  were 
brief,  and  Dupont  became  more  and  more  sen 
sibly  touched  by  the  affectionate  gladness  with 


244  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

which  his  friend  met  him  on  returning.  On 
occasion  of  a  few  days'  respite  from  business  in 
the  fall,  he  was  persuaded  to  journey  with  him 
to  London.  Noting  that  it  gratified  him,  he 
let  him  pay  most  of  the  expense,  Corson  respect 
ing  the  delicacy  which  sometimes  forbade  this. 
Besides  the  most  famous  places,  they  visited 
several  not  now  of  great  interest  except  for 
their  traditions,  as  Crosby  Hall  (now  a  restau 
rant),  where  King  Richard  III.  wooed  Anne  of 
Warwick,  the  spot  in  Temple  Gardens  where 
York  and  Lancaster  plucked  their  badges  from 
the  rose-trees  there,  the  churches  of  St.  Dun- 
stan's,  St.  Sepulchre,  and  others  humbler  yet, 
holding  in  their  yards  the  dust  of  many  whose 
names,  known  to  only  a  few  in  their  times,  have 
since  become  immortal ;  to  Tavistocks'  Break 
fast  Rooms,  where  for  generations  the  dwellers 
and  habitues  about  Covent  Garden  have  gath 
ered  to  the  good  things  therein  served;  to 
Datchett's  Lane  at  Windsor,  and  Herne's  Oak 
at  the  Forest  near  by,  which  "The  Merry 
Wives"  made  never  to  be  forgotten,  and  many 
others.  Dupont  could  not  but  admire  more  and 
more  the  strange  youth,  as  the  vigor  of  his 
understanding  and  the  extent  of  his  culture  and 
observation  became  more  and  more  manifest. 

In  this  while  his  malady,  tubercular  consump 
tion,  grew  rapidly.     Generally  very  cheerful,  yet 


ISHMAEL  245 

occasionally  of  late  there  were  evidences  of  rest 
lessness  which  were  painful  to  Dupont,  who  by 
this  time  had  become  strongly  attached  to  him. 
One  day,  it  was  in  October,  Dupont  said  to 
him: 

"  Charles,  don't  you  think  that  it  would  be 
better  for  you  at  home  than  here  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  Charles.  I  understand  my 
case  fully.  I  am  better  off  as  it  is  than  I  would 
be  otherwise.  Besides,  I  have  no  home,  except, 
—  except  —  I  am  going  to  sail  for  New  York 
next  week,  in  order  to  attend  to  some  business 
that  needs  my  presence,  but  I  shall  return  when 
it  is  despatched." 

He  went,  and,  against  Dupont' s  expectation, 
came  back  a  month  later.  Dupont  was  shocked 
at  his  debility.  Yet  his  late  restlessness  was 
gone,  and  his  cheerfulness  increased. 

"  I  see  how  you  are  pained  by  my  looks,"  he 
said,  when  Dupont,  who  had  met  him  at  the 
ship,  took  him  to  his  chamber  at  the  Adelphi ; 
"but  —  do  you  know?  —  I  never  have  a  pain 
of  any  sort  now.  Consumption  gives  a  pleasing 
decline.  I  came  back  somewhat  sooner  than  I 
expected,  because  I  wanted  to  be  sure  of  being 
with  you  when  death  comes.  I  am  looking  out 
for  it,  and  am  prepared." 

He  survived  six  weeks.  Dupont  was  with 
him  what  time  he  could  get  from  his  business, 


246  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

and  during  the  last  week  did  not  leave  him 
longer  than  for  a  few  minutes  at  a  time.  His 
only  request  was  that  a  telegram,  immediately 
after  his  decease,  be  despatched  to  a  party  in 
New  York.  He  accepted  Dupont's  attentions 
with  gratitude  as  delicate  as  profound,  and 
often  from  his  glittering  eyes  came  affection 
unspeakably  fond.  One  afternoon,  reclining  in 
his  chair,  after  being  in  silence  for  some  time, 
he  whispered : 

"  Charles,  my  brother  Charles,  won't  you  kiss 
me  good-by  ?" 

Dupont  kissed  him.  He  smiled  and  immedi 
ately  expired. 

This  was  the  answer  to  the  telegram : 

"41  WALL  STREET,  NEW  YORK,  DEC.  3,  1866. 
"  Yours  received.  The  deceased,  Charles  D.  Corson, 
before  his  late  departure  for  Liverpool,  executed  and 
deposited  with  us  a  last  will  and  testament,  by  which, 
after  some  small  charities,  he  bequeathed  to  yourself  the 
residue  of  his  property,  which  will  amount,  it  is  probable, 
to  about  twenty  thousand  dollars.  You  are  named  sole 
executor.  He  requested  us  to  notify  you,  after  receiving 
intelligence  of  his  decease,  of  this  fact,  and  to  add  that  in  a 
pocket  beneath  the  lid  of  his  trunk  would  be  found  a  letter 
addressed  to  you.  We  await  your  instructions  in  the 
premises.  "PIERCE  &  FARROW." 

The  letter  filled  many  pages.  After  giving 
an  account  of  an  attachment  between  Dupont's 
father  and  his  own  mother,  the  daughter  of  an 


ISHMAEL  247 

octoroon  woman  who  had  been  a  slave,  he  dwelt 
at  some  length  upon  the  careers  of  her  and  her 
child  after  both  parents  had  decided  that  sepa 
ration,  absolute  and  distant,  was  indispensable. 
The  mother  and  infant,  well  supplied  with 
money,  were  sent  to  New  York,  and  some  time 
afterwards  the  father  married.  After  the  death 
of  the  mother,  and  particularly  since  he  had 
become  of  age,  he  had  had  much  longing  to 
know  some  who  were  of  his  kindred.  On  the 
maternal  side  there  were  none,  as  his  mother 
was  an  only  child.  During  the  war  of  secession 
he  had  been  abroad.  After  it  was  over  he 
returned,  and  during  a  visit  to  Charleston  in 
the  following  winter  learned  of  young  Charles 
Dupont,  and  often  contrived  to  observe  him 
upon  the  streets.  He  was  planning  another 
visit,  when,  seeing  Dupont' s  name  on  the  regis 
ter  of  St.  Nicholas,  he  made  his  way  to  him,  as 
has  been  shown.  On  finding  that  Dupont  was 
to  sail,  he  rose  at  once,  and,  repairing  to  the 
office  of  the  Cunards,  engaged  a  berth  for  him 
self.  Touching  in  the  extreme  were  his  words 
of  compassion  for  the  pain  which  Dupont  was  to 
feel  at  the  disclosure  of  facts  of  whose  truth 
there  were  papers  in  the  trunk  containing  evi 
dences  irrefragable.  Hardly  less  touching  was 
his  appeal  to  him  not  to  reject  his  bequest.  The 
letter  ended  thus : 


248  OLD   TIMES   IN   MIDDLE   GEORGIA 

"My  mother  was  so  far  from  complaining 
that  she  became  entirely  reconciled  to  what  she 
knew  to  be  inevitable.  Her  feeling  towards  the 
only  man  for  whom  she  had  ever  cared  remained 
throughout  her  life,  and  often  she  said  to  me 
that  he  was  as  much  entitled  to  my  filial  regard 
as  any  father  whose  offspring  had  come  in  legit 
imate  conditions.  Nor  did  she  complain,  nor 
fail  to  teach  me  not  to  complain  of  destiny. 
Never  a  tinge  of  shame  was  upon  her  face,  nor 
its  feeling  within  her  breast,  for  the  lower  line 
of  her  ancestry,  and  I  am  thankful,  yes,  upon 
this  bed  of  death  I  bless  the  holy  name  of  God, 
that  this  has  been  the  same  with  me.  The  will 
of  God !  Who  can  compass  it !  Who  can  ap 
proximate  nearer  than  the  fullest  certitude  that 
it  is  always  wise,  always  just,  always  merciful ! 
The  bond-woman  with  her  son  must  be  cast  out 
at  the  coming  of  the  son  of  the  free.  It  was 
right  because  it  was  in  accord  with  the  will  of 
God,  and  his  blessing,  following  the  exiles, 
opened  for  -them  a  well  in  the  wilderness  of 
Beersheba.  So  the  rude  Esau  must  yield  his 
birthright  to  the  younger,  who  in  the  womb  of 
their  mother  had  begun  the  struggle  for  priority ; 
yet  journeying  far  away  into  Seir,  he  there  found 
peace  and  prosperity.  My  mother  lived  in  con 
tent,  and  died  happy.  So  have  I  lived,  and,  now 
that  I  have  known  you,  so  will  I  die.  Farewell." 


ISHMAEL  249 

When  he  had  finished  the  perusal,  the  sur 
vivor,  weeping  aloud,  went  to  the  bier,  and, 
casting  himself  upon  his  knees,  cried,  — 

"My  brother!  Oh,  my  brother!  Why  did 
you  not  —  why  —  why  did  you  not,  why  did  not 
my  own  heart  burning  within  me,  make  known 
these  things  before?  My  brother!  Oh,  my 
brother!" 


James  Lane  Allen's  New  Novel. 

"  The  longest,  strongest,  and  most  beautiful  of  Mr.  Allen's  novels."  — 
CHICAGO  TRIBUNE. 

THE  CHOIR  INVISIBLE. 

Cloth.     i2mo.    $1.50. 

"  There  are  two  chief  reasons  why  Mr.  Allen  seems  to  me  one  of  the 
first  of  our  novelists  to-day.  He  is  most  exquisitively  alive  to  the  fine 
spirit  of  comedy.  He  has  a  prose  style  of  wonderful  beauty,  con 
scientiousness  and  simplicity.  .  .  .  He  has  the  inexorable  conscience 
of  the  artist;  he  always  gives  us  his  best,  and  that  best  is  a  style  of 
great  purity  and  felicity  and  sweetness,  a  style  without  strain,  and  yet 
with  an  enviable  aptness  for  the  sudden  inevitable  word."  —  BLISS 
CARMAN  in  The  Evening  Transcript,  Boston. 


By  the  same  Author. 

SUMMER  IN  ARCADY. 

Cloth.    i2mo.    $1.25. 

"  Mr.  Allen  has  written  with  a  definite  and  noble  purpose,  and  if  he 
has  come  after  others,  it  ._  ;nt  a  way  that  they  may  well  follow  in 

the  future.  Many  have  grapt  .a  with  the  same  subject,  have  bungled 
and  mistreated  their  theme;  it  has  remained  for  Mr.  Allen  to  give  us  a 
novel  which  is  the  result  of  the  most  consummate  art.  It  has  remained 
for  him  to  touch  and  make  holy  that  which  has  been  too  often  pro 
faned." —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 


Mr.  Wells'  "delightfully  funny  book," 

THE  WHEELS  OF  CHANCE. 

By  H.   G.  WELLS, 

Author  of  "The  Wonderful  Visit"  etc. 
Cloth,     izmo.    $1.50. 

"  You  will  not  read  a  more  healthy  amusing  book  this  year.  This 
young  Mr.  H.  G.  Wells  has  founded  a  school  of  light  literature  for  him 
self —  a  school  in  which  only  pupils  peculiarly  equipped  for  provoking 
hearty  laughter  without  a  vestige  of  coarseness  may  hope  to  be  grad 
uated."  —  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  It  is  a  sprightly  book  and  will  be  chuckled  over  alike  by  people 
who  love  the  bicycle  and  people  who  regard  it  with  scorn."  —  New 
York  Tribune. 


Mr.  F.  flarion  Crawford's  Recent  Novels. 


A  ROSE  OF  YESTERDAY. 

By  F.   MARION  CRAWFORD. 
i2mo.    Cloth.    $1.25. 

ANDREW  LANG  writes :  — 

F.  Marion  Crawford  is  the  "  most  versatile  and  various  "  of  modern 
novelists.  He  has  great  adaptability  and  subtleness  of  mind,  and 
whether  dealing  with  life  in  modern  Rome,  in  the  wilds  of  India,  or  in 
the  fashionable  quarter  of  New  York,  in  the  Black  Forest,  or  in  a 
lonely  parish  of  rural  England,  he  is  equally  facile  and  sure  of  his 
ground  ;  a  master  of  the  narrative  style,  he  throws  a  subtle  charm  over 
all  he  touches,  and  his  new  book  is  a  case  in  point.  The  new  problem 
is  the  question  of  divorce. 


TAQUISARA. 

Two  Volumes.    i6mo.    In  Box,  $2.00. 

"  Italian  life  could  scarcely  be  better  depicted,  nor  do  we  recall  any 
finer  descriptions  of  scenes  and  places.  It  is  indeed  a  powerful  novel." 
-  The  Independent,  New  York. 

"  It  has  a  certain  elevation  of  tone  and  a  warmth  of  color  that  give 
it  value,  and  it  is  not  merely  entertaining,  but  invigorating."  —  Phila 
delphia  Times, 

CASA  BRACCIO. 

Bound  in  Buckram.    In  Two  Handy  i6mo  Volumes,  in  Box,  $2.00. 

"  Mr.  Crawford's  latest  novel,  '  Casa  Braccio,'  may  not  improbably 
come  to  be  regarded  as  the  supreme  masterpiece  in  fiction,  of  the 
English  tongue  at  least,  that  has  appeared  since  '  Daniel  Deronda.' 
Its  breadth  of  human  emotion,  its  vividness  of  individualities,  its  splen 
dor  of  coloring,  all  entitle  this  novel  to  a  lasting  place  in  the  literature 
of  fiction." —  Chicago  Inter- Ocean. 

THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY, 

66   FIFTH    AVENUE,    NEW   YORK. 


SHORT   STORIES    FOR    SUMMER    READING. 


FROM  THE  LAND  OF  THE 
SNOW  PEARLS. 

TALES  OF  PUGET   SOUND. 
Cr.  8vo.    Cloth.     $1.50. 

Some  of  these  stories  have  been  published  under  the  title  of  "  The 
Flower  that  Grew  in  the  Sand,"  of  which  we  quote  a  few  press  com 
ments  : 

"  Stories  of  superior  merit,  .  .  .  pictures  of  life  sincerely  drawn 
with  a  firm  hand  and  a  clear  vision,  romantic  enough,  yet  simple,  often 
homely.  The  author  is  wise  in  choosing  subjects.  .  .  .  Some  of  the 
incidents  are  sketched  so  vividly  and  so  truthfully  that  persons  and 
things  come  out  on  the  page  as  if  life  itself  were  there."  —  The  Inde 
pendent,  New  York. 

THE  PORT  OF  MISSING  SHIPS, 

AND  OTHER   STORIES   OF  THE  SEA. 

By  JOHN  R.   SPEARS. 

i6mo.    Cloth.    $1.25. 

"  All  three  are  singularly  effective  in  theme  and  composition,  tasting 
of  tar  and  pitch  and  breathing  saltiness.  They  are  bracing  tales,  and 
about  the  finest  bits  of  reading  that  a  wholesome  mind  could  set  itself 
to.  These  three  stories  are  veritable  sea  classics." —  The  News,  Provi 
dence. 


THE  FLOWER  OF  FORGIVENESS. 

By  FLORA  ANNIE   STEEL, 

Author  of  "On   the  Face  of  the  Waters"  "Miss  Stuart's  Legacy,"  "Red 
Rowans,"  "  Tales  from  the  Punjab"  etc. 

Uniform  Edition.    Cloth.     12010.    Price,  $1.50. 

"  There  is  a  weird  charm  and  fascination  about  these  sixteen  short 
stories  by  Flora  Annie  Steel.  The  initial  story  gives  the  title  to  the 
book.  They  all  deal  with  Indian  life,  and  evince  the  same  patient 
study  into  Indian  character  as  it  developed  and  manifests  itself  in 
various  castes  that  the  author  has  shown  in  her  former  books."  — 
Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 


Mrs.  Flora  Annie  Steel's  New  Novel. 

IN  THE  TIDEWAY. 

By  MRS.    F.    A.    STEEL. 

Author  of  "  On  the  Face  of  the  Waters,"  "  Miss  Stuart's  Legacy,"  "  The  Flower 
of  Forgiveness"  "  Red  Rowans,"  etc. 

i6mo.    tiilt  Top.    $1.25. 

"  It  is  not  itself  so  much  a  novel  as  it  is  an  episode,  an  idyll.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  idyll  carries  the  strength  and  dignity  of  a  truly  tragic 
narrative.  ...  It  has  some  veritably  thrilling  passages,  but  it  is  natural 
from  cover  to  cover,  and  is  laid  down  as  a  piece  of  evenly  brilliant 
writing.  Its  charm  pursues  the  reader  along  several  lines.  The  cen 
tral  motive  is  original,  and  its  development  is  even  more  unexpected." 
—  The  Tribune,  New  York. 


By  the  Same  Author.  —  Twelfth  Edition. 

ON  THE  FACE  OF  THE  WATERS. 

By  FLORA  ANNIE  STEEL, 

Author  of  "  The  Flower  of  Forgiveness"  "  Mz'ss  Stuart's  Legacy"  "  Red 
Rowans"  "  Tales  from  the  Punjab"  etc. 

Uniform  Edition.    Cloth,    iimo.    Price,  $1.50. 

"  We  long  ago  recognized  the  remarkable  knowledge  of  life  in  India 
possessed  by  Mrs.  Flora  A.  Steel.  .  .  .  We  are  not  surprised,  therefore, 
to  learn  that  her  new  novel,  '  On  the  Face  of  the  Waters,'  has  at  once 
attained  wide  popularity.  The  novel  is  strong  in  its  plot,  in  its  charac 
ters,  and  in  its  grasp  on  a  multiplicity  of  historical  facts."  —  The  Outlook. 

ON  MANY  SEAS. 

THE   LIFE   AND   EXPLOITS   OF  A   YANKEE   SAILOR. 
By  FREDERICK  BENTON  WILLIAMS. 

EDITED   BY   HIS   FRIEND 

WILLIAM  STONE  BOOTH. 
i2mo.     Cloth.    $1.50. 

"Every  line  of  this  hits  the  mark,  and  to  any  one  who  knows  the 
forecastle  and  its  types  the  picture  appeals  with  the  urgency  of  old 
familiar  things.  All  through  his  four  hundred  and  more  pages  he  is 
equally  unaffected  and  forcible,  equally  picturesque.  To  go  through 
one  chapter  is  to  pass  with  lively  anticipation  to  the  next.  His  book 
is  destined  to  be  remembered."  —  New  York  Tribune. 


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